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Good morning.
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Good morning.
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You may hang your coat over there.
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It's for you.
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Hello.
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Hello. Please, have a seat.
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What's your name?
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Emilie Muller.
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Is that your real name?
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Yes.
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Are you an actress?
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Once I played a small part in a play,
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but I believe this fact does not make me an actress.
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Was that all you played?
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Yes.
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Ever starred in a movie?
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No, never.
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Had an audition?
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No, this is the first time.
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Any specialty course? Acting classes?
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I’m afraid, not.
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How did you come to know that we are looking for an actress?
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A friend of mine told me about this.
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She insisted on me coming here with her,
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but in the end she hasn’t come herself.
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But you have come.
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Yes, because of the script.
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A man locked in a room,
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a woman wandering around the world instead of him.
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I was really touched by that.
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Could you show me the contents of your bag?
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My bag?
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Yes.
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I..
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You don't want to do this?
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Do you think it's not appropriate?
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No, not at all.
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Should I empty my bag?
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Or what should I do?
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Take out any item and tell me why it’s in the bag,
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and what associations it arouses in your mind.
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Wait a moment.
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Everyone ready?
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Action.
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Emilie Muller, take one.
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Can I begin?
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Well, there is nothing unusual here.
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A wallet.
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A powder-box.
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This morning on my way here I was passing a market.
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There were plenty of various fruits there
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including apples.
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Red apples, green apples.
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I came closer just to have a look,
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and the seller took one apple and gave it to me.
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What is it?
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This?
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An advertiser.
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Are you looking for something?
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Not now, but I look for a job from time to time.
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What kind of job?
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I change jobs all the time.
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I was a housekeeper, a nanny,
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a waitress, a documentalist.
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I currently work as a proofreader in a publishing office.
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I like working there.
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Only when I read a text I mostly see defects.
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You can find so many things in the ads.
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Come to think how wonderful it is
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that a few words in a paper may change a person’s life.
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I like to read real estate ads, I want to have my own house.
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Not a palace, just a small wooden house deep in the woods.
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It has to be a place to go whenever I want,
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where I could invite friends, or listen to music far into the night.
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When I read real estate ads, I imagine what kind of life I would have there.
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Your own home is a totally new life.
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It will bring different flavours, new colours.
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Or maybe absolute loneliness,
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no-one to talk to.
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Sometimes this is what I feel like having.
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Aren’t you afraid?
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No, not at all.
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When I was a child, my parents often left me home alone,
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and I spent time in solitude
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with a book to read.
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But I don’t remember ever being afraid.
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A ring.
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An old friend of mine gave it to me.
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It belonged to his mother, but she’s passed away.
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I have never worn this ring.
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Why not?
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It’s too heavy.
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A plane ticket.
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An old ticket?
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No, it's new.
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My friend sent it to me.
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It's a return ticket. From Paris to Nizza and back.
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I still don't know if I go.
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Why?
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He told me he had an old apartment overlooking the sea,
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just like in that movie...
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No if I go, it will only be to see the tomb.
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To see what?
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The tomb.
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They say there is an old cemetery on the outskirts of the city.
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Matisse, the artist, is buried there.
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His grave is bare, but there is always a bunch of red flowers on it.
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Someone, some woman maybe, brings new flowers every day.
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When my friend told me about it, I wanted to see it with my own eyes right away.
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And yesterday I received this ticket.
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But if I go, I may not come back.
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A sketchbook for taking notes.
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What kind of notes?
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Some stories, scraps of dreams, phrases I have read in books.
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I constantly write something down, it is a rather foolish habit.
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Why foolish?
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Because it is for nothing.
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Important things you remember without any notes.
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Is it also your diary?
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Yes.
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I make myself write something down every day. It’s like a job for me.
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I write about things I see, or do, about people I meet. About everything.
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Aren’t you afraid that someone will read it?
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Yes. I once lost a diary.
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Since then I’ve been having bad dreams,
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that someone has found it and started sorting out our relationship.
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Some horrible things are written here, things I never told anyone about.
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Could you read anything from there to me?
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Monday, July 7th.
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I have known happiness, but that didn’t make me happier.
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Beautiful, isn’t it?
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Are those your words?
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No, it's Jules Renard.
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I read this in his diary.
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Oh, by the way, I’ve recently written down an extremely funny phrase, let me find it.
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Would you like some coffee?
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No, thanks.
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Do you like to seduce?
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No, I don't think so.
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But everyone likes to seduce, don’t they?
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It's more like I am seduced by other people’s desire.
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How do you mean?
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When someone is interested in me, pays me some attention, I can’t resist.
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I want to, but this is stronger than me.
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Men must be taking advantage of this?
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When they do, I leave them.
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Sometimes it happens rather unexpectedly.
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For example?
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I don’t know, one word, one movement is enough.
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They may never even notice, but it is enough for me to understand
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that we have nothing in common.
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And you never meet them again?
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On the contrary.
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I always try to meet again the people I used to love.
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I need to know what they do, what have become of them,
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even if I don’t see them for many months.
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You have no idea how important it is to just know that they are here, not far from me,
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somewhere where they feel good, and that I only need to give them a sign to meet them again.
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When you cross someone out of your life,
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you cross out a part of your life as well.
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Life itself makes everything to separate people.
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A pen.
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It’s a gift from one of my friends for his birthday.
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For his birthday?
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Yes.
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He always liked it more to give presents rather than get them.
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A postcard from one of my friends.
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I haven’t received any news from her for a long time.
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My friend, she lives in Brazil now, in Sao Paulo.
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She has been a nun for the last five years.
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And now she writes to me that she has abandoned everything and got married.
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To a priest.
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If only I could I would fly to her with the first flight.
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What else is there?
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A library card.
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A donor card.
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What card?
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An organ donor card. When I die I want my organs to be donated.
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Pills. I almost never take them, but I always have them with me.
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They are for my insomnia.
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The most terrible hours are from 4 to 5 a.m.
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when you have neither an interesting book with you nor any crackers to eat…
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A pack of cigarettes.
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Do you smoke a lot?
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No, I don’t smoke. They are for my friends.
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Do you have many friends?
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No, I don’t.
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A friend of mine has a theory. He believes that people can only have a certain number of friends.
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And if you meet a new friend, you will lose one of the old ones.
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I think he is right. You can have two, maybe three friends in your life.
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What features of a man’s character touch you most of all?
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Features that touch me?
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Actually, the ability to be touched.
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Ability to admire. It is important to be able to admire.
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But then it doesn’t relate to men only.
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I think, I love someone more if they can be moved.
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Does your friend have such a feature?
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I guess so.
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And what are his drawbacks?
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Emilie Muller, take two
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The tape ended, so we are going to repeat these last lines.
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We were talking about your friend, what are his drawbacks?
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His drawbacks…
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I only know a single drawback of his, and it's terrible.
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How is that?
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Everyone loves him, but he doesn’t love a soul.
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Go on.
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A penknife.
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A harmonica.
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A hairpin.
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An old sketchbook.
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Do you have any book in your bag?
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Yes, I always have a book with me.
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Could you show it to me? What is it about?
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It’s a memoir book.
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I only read biographies, personal diaries.
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I have to be certain that things I read about happened in real life.
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Otherwise, I get bored.
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This is a book by an American writer.
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He writes that his mother died not having read a single line from his books.
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You know, why?
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Every time a book of his was published,
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he told her that the next one would be better and worthier for her to read.
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Isn’t it wonderful?
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Actually, I very seldom read a book to the end.
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I constantly jump from one book to another.
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Why?
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Have you met the woman of your life?
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Excuse me?
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The woman that would at once shadow all others.
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Imagine that you are looking for such a woman.
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You don't know what she is like.
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You only know one thing – when you first see her,
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you will know at once that it is her you've been looking for.
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The same is with everything.
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When we read we look for something unique.
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But, of course, we can never find it.
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What if you find it?
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It will up-end my life.
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Emilie Muller, take three.
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I think that’s it.
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Ah no, here is a small pocket.
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This is my friend. He is asleep.
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This is the only way he allows someone to take a picture of him.
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And this is my mother, in her youth.
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I found this picture a few days ago. I had never seen it before.
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I like my mother‘s eyes in this picture, her smile.
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That is the first time I see her hugged by another man, not my father.
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They seem to be in love with each other.
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I'm glad that even before my father came into her life, my mother had been happy.
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Do parents mean much for you?
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They are everything to me.
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When I think that some day they will…
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I tremble all over.
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Tell me about your childhood.
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I stayed a child for a long time.
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Why?
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I didn’t want to grow up. I felt fine as I was.
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Some writer mentioned once that he couldn’t remember ever standing on earth in his childhood.
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He was always held on someone's hands.
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That was how it was with me. My parents always protected me from all miseries.
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Where were you born?
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In Hungary.
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Could you tell me something in Hungarian? Read a poem?
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But you will not understand anything.
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It doesn’t matter.
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Tell me, as a child did you have a dream to become someone?
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Yes, my brother and I, we wanted to become astronauts.
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We used to watch the sky all the time.
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If we were offered to go to Venus, Mars or Jupiter,
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we would go at once.
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The dream didn’t work out?
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No. I wish I knew why.
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That’s it, your time is over.
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Already?
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Thank you.
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Bye.
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Bye.
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There is a young man at the exit, please tell him your contact information. I will call you next week, ok?
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Could you bring me some water?
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Four girls left, want me to call in the next one?
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No, just a minute, I need a break. It won't take much time.
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Could you tell them to wait a little?
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Sure, I'll tell them.
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Hey Olivier, she has forgotten her bag, can you try to catch up with her?
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This isn't her bag.
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Of course it is. She’s forgotten it.
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It's not her bag, I am quite sure of it. She didn’t have any bag with her.
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Well, whose bag is it, then?
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Alice! Alice!
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Whose bag is it?
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It's mine. Why?
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Yes, it's mine.