Nymphomaniac: Vol. I Page #9

sexual satisfactions,

while also having

a full-time job,

I was still prone to

a certain sadness.

So when my busy life

allowed a few breaks,

I used them

to take my walks.

These repeated walks

became a kind of metaphor

for my life.

Monotonous and pointless.

Yes, precisely like the

movements of a caged animal.

Basically, we're all waiting

for permission to die.

No.

No, no, no. No, there...

There are some completely

unrealistic coincidences

in your story about Jerome.

First, by chance, he hires you as...

As an assistant.

And then you take a walk in a forest,

and it's littered

with photographs of him.

And not only that... he's present.

And then like a god,

pulls you up to him through the clouds.

So what?

That's the way this story goes.

And I'm the one telling it,

and I know what happened.

Do you want to hear it or not?

Goodness gracious.

What a strange way to meet.

Yes.

It's a very strange way.

Jerome was there

because he'd just had a fight

with his wife, who in anger

tore up the photographs

they just had developed

from their travels.

I don't know if I can believe this.

Which way

do you think you'd get the most

out of my story?

By believing in it

or not believing in it?

Yeah, you're right.

You might have a point

with all this.

The secret ingredient

to sex is love.

The third voice,

the secret ingredient.

Cantus Firmus.

Fill all my holes.

What's wrong?

Hmm?

- I can't feel anything.

- Huh?

I can't feel anything.

I can't feel anything.

I can't... anything.

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