Romance Page #5

where the head is separated

from the body...

by a system,

similar to a guillotine...

before the hatchet drops.

It goes without saying,

that there is no hatchet, of course.

I wear a red skirt made of satin,

that rustles with every touch.

And it's that ridiculous accessory,

what turns the men on.

What in turn proves, that those who

get turned on, don't love us, either.

Basically Paul is right: Being a woman

corresponds to a shortcoming.

For being wild about a woman

really means:
wanting to f*** her.

However, wanting to f*** a woman

means:
despising her.

Love between men and women

is not possible.

I don't know why I visualize these

men as being crude and apelike.

Aziz, look at my dick!

As if crudeness

was the most desirable thing.

Good, I can see the head now.

That was the spine...

The femur...

Do you want to know what it is?

It's a boy.

That's phenomenal.

Do you want me to marry you?

I do.

That evening Paul loved me

for the first time in a very long time.

And for the last time.

From then on I was no more

than a millstone round his neck,

that he put up with

out of a sense of duty.

We went out every evening.

With his sister

and his brother-in-law.

Now, that I was the mother of his son,

I was finally introduced

to his family.

Are you okay?

Two whiskey.

Are you okay?

- I'm fine.

Anything to drink?

Later.

I hope,

you're not about to make a scene.

I'm not.

I wanted to dance, with the first

girl that came along.

We would have nearly kissed. She

looked at me, as if I came from mars.

So I simply

left her standing somewhere.

She didn't even know,

what was happening to her.

See, there's no reason

for complaining.

I don't complain.

Then why am I explaining?

One whiskey, please.

Aren't you two in love anymore?

You look like a couple of petty bourgeois.

That's how you're holding her.

Here... have a seat.

Are you tired?

Could be worse.

She's my sister,

but anyway...

I am going to tell her:

A guy loves a challenge.

He doesn't want to have someone

who follows him all the time.

He's got to have the concern,

he might lose her.

Then he'll be after her.

Or otherwise, after someone else.

A guy is always after someone.

What's your opinion?

I don't care about your little

hunting tales.

That bastard...

Leaving me all alone with the fear,

that my vagina stretches out,

and that I'll have to push out the baby.

Paul, wake up!

I've had it, your boozing!

You damn bastard. You f***ing model!

I'm coming down.

What's the matter?

You'll like it.

We're preparing everything...

wait for the contraction...

Take a deep breath.

As soon as it passes,

lie down.

No, the father can't stay.

- Oh yes, he stays!

Can't I have an epidural?

- Too late, your baby's coming.

Okay, we're ready...

we'll push the baby out, right?

Take a breath... stop...

support her from the other side...

And push strongly... just go ahead...

one more time and again...

With all your strength... push...

Hold your breath... and again.

It's incredible... to give life.

Just do it... breathe in...

Hold it... and here we go...

Go.

People say, a woman is no woman,

until she's given birth to a child.

I believe it's true.

Everything before that,

has lost its significance.

For Christine Pascal

I gave my son

his father's first name.

If someone up above counts the souls,

then we're quits.

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