“I’ve got a mechanism for seeing called eyes, for hearing called ears, for speaking called a mouth. But they feel disconnected. They don’t work together. A person should feel like he’s one individual. I feel like I’m many different people.”
– Ferdinand | Pierrot Le Fou
“Awful, isn’t it? It’s so anonymous.”
“What is?”
“They say ‘115 guerrillas,’ and it means nothing to us. But each one is a man, and we don’t even know who he is, if he loves a woman, if he has kids, if he prefers movies or plays. We know nothing about them. All they say is “115 killed.” It’s like photographs. They’ve always fascinated me. You see this frozen image of a guy with a caption underneath. Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he was a nice guy. But at the moment it was taken, no one can really say who he was, what he was thinking about. His wife? His mistress? The past? The future? Basketball? No one will ever know. That’s life for you. That’s what makes me sad: Life is so different from books. I wish it were the same: Clear, logical, organized. Only it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is. Much more than people think.”
“No, Pierrot.”
– Pierrot Le Fou | Jean-Luc Godard
