INT: HOTEL ROOM IN KREUZBERG, BERLIN – DAY
Bertha is kneeling with her two hands touching the wooden floor, looking through the glass window where the only source of light shines into the room, lighting up her face which is covered with tears.
How could he just tell me to forget?
How would he manage to forget?
How would two people who have spent time together just separate and become strangers and forget what have happened?
How grown-up I need to be for having such a cold heart?
How mature I need to be for not crying because of loss?
Show me how!
BACK TO PRESENT DAY:
Suggested soundtrack: Three Thousand Five Hundred and Ninety One Benches by Jóhann Jóhannsson