Deux ou trois choses que je sais d'elle...

Resume on Juliette, now alternating with close-ups of a cup of coffee.

Commentary (off): Perhaps an object can provide a link, can enable one to go from one subject to another and so to live within society, to be together. But then, given the fact that social relationships are always ambiguous, give the fact that my thoughts create riffs as much as they unite, given the fact that my words establish tontacts by being spoken and create isolation by remaining unspoken, given the fact that there is such a vast gap between the subject certainty I have of myself and the objective reality that I represent to others, given the fact that I always find myself guilty although I feel I am innocent.

a spon is stirring up the cup of coffee. it is withdrawn. A small circle of foam is left swirling on the surface

Given the fact that each event changes my day-to-day existence and given the fact that I invariably fail to communicate... I mean to understand; to love, to be loved, and as each failure makes me feel my loneliness more keenly as...

Juliette stops staring at the couple and turns to look towards the bar. The barista, who wears dark glasses, is filling a glass. Constant sound of pin-ball machine flippers. The barista feels Juliette looking at him and stares back. Close-up of beer taps and the barista's hands. The coffee cup. Foam swirls around on the surface

...as...as I cannot bring myself to give up the objectivity which oppresses me or the subjectivity which makes me feel as an exile, as I can neither raise myself to a level of being, nor allow myself to sink into nothingness. I must go on listening. I must go on looking about me even more keenly than in the past. The world. A kindred spirit... my brother.

Close-up of the barista looking at Juliette. Resume on the coffee. A lump of sugar sinks like a cluster of crystals. The screen is now black, and strewn with silvery bubbles and foam.

Where does it begin? But where does what begin? God created the heavens and earth. Of course, but that's an easy way out. There must be a better way of explaining it all. ...to think that speech is as limited as the world. That the frontiers of my speech are the frontiers of my world. And that whatever I say must impose limitations on the world, must make it finite. And when logical, mysterious death comes to abolish that frontier, and when there will be no questions and now answers, everything will be blurred. Yet it will only be with the re-emergence of consciousness that it may all grow clear again. After that, everything will fall into place.