- You’re so kind and nice that I… I love you. Almost as much as I love him.
They’re such good dancers. Can you dance like that?
- I can dance.
- I can’t.
- I used to come here often. Not exactly here, since I only transferred here two weeks ago. [Music starts] But places like this.
[She starts laughing, paying little attention to him]
Your grandmother keeps you pinned to her skirt. My parents were just the opposite. Go away! [at the dancers] As a child I went to boarding school, and then I lived with relatives. At home I was just one more mouth to feed. Then I went into the service, and then I got a job. One year here, one year there — you meet a lot of people. You meet, you separate, and then you start all over. I used to think that was the secret of life. Perhaps I’m getting older, but I don’t like that anymore. I’d like to make some friends and keep them. Someone—I don’t come to places like this anymore. I like to walk around by myself, lost in thought.
- So you’re a dreamer too.
- Well, you know how it is. The imagination boils over, like water in a coffee pot. But it’s a mistake, because you end up believing there’s something real and tangible in our dreams, and you neglect life and reality. This reality right here!
- No, no! I can’t dance.
- It doesn’t matter. Let’s try.