You'll have to take Jan.
For how long?
I've got an assignment to got to Bali...
...to write about animistic religions.
I'll be gone a year.
That's impossible, Werner. Jan can only stay with me a few days.
I haven't a penny left - I've no choice.
I can't spend the next ten years playing nursemaid.
You should have thought of that before Jan was born.
We both wanted the child.
Take him to your parents, or find him a foster home.
I can't manage any longer, I've tried for two years.
Won't he miss you? He's so fond of you.
He is the only person who is.
But I can't take him with me.
You must realize that.
My parents are too old to cope. And I have my work...
You're her sister. You introduced us.
But I didn't seperate you.
No. You opposed our separation, that's why you might take care of Jan.
Why do you think I've no children?
Marianne wanted three.
To show me up.
I that damn stud hadn't come along, we'd have had them.
Karl wasn't the only reason.
He can probably screw better than I can.
If you don't eat now, I'll have to reheat it.
So you think Marianne's different? Not a whore like the rest of them?
I think you're over-simplifying.
Who? Me? Who neglected his job to raise the kid?
Who turned down assignments until we starved?
Jan can only stay here a few days. I'm sorry, Werner.
Thanks. By then I'll have found a home for him.
Can I depend on that? - Yes.
I've got to get out of this rut and start working again.
Can't Wolfgang take care of Jan?
But we've agreed. Just a few days.
Maybe your boy-friend feels differently from you.
About children, yes, but not about Marianne.
The worst is that when people attack her, I start defending her...
...when I'd really like to kick her damned arse.
Is Bali an escape route, or is it really the only job you can get?
Marianne's behaviour is an escape. An escape from me.
You should never have married. Who needs those rituals? You had the lot.
Are you going to eat, or not?
Just when I begin to lead a normal life, she drops out, to spite me.
Now you're over-simplifying...
...as if all her blasted ideas weren't inside us, too.
In you and in me. Only we're too cowardly, or too sensible.
I'll be right back.
Most women want babies... who later never remember their mothers.
Jan won't remember Marianne. I'm sure.
- How old was he when she left? - Two. I don't want him put in a home.
- Has Werner no parents? - Been dead for years.
Why does he put the child in the same fix? Why don't you take the boy?
Sabine, stop giving me a bad conscience.
You're a strange pair of sisters.
You don't want children and Marianne gives up hers, to save humanity.
But you have no children, either.
I soon shall have.
Really?
- How far gone? - Two months.
- It's crazy. What about your work? - I'll manage.
Every year there are 30.000 known cases of child abuse.
78.000 German children are crowded into orphanages...
...and 300.000 minors are in camps for the homeless.
Churchmen, politicians, doctor's don't care! They cry: "Protect the unborn!"
We agree, if the child's wanted. But if it's unwanted...
we want the legal right to terminate pregnancy, for any reason...
...in any hospital, on the health insurance.
The wealthy, the educated have always had that choice.
Poor women, who can't afford another child have died in misery.
The Anti-Abortion Act concerns us all.
It humiliates all of us and we demand it's repeal.
Show who profits by the Act and who doesn't.
Put it into historical perspective.
If we look at history we have to go back to the anciant Romans.
Juliane, it's for you.
I can't talk now.
Where? All right. I'm coming.
I've got to go.
Margit, take care of Jan, will you? - Ok.
We haven't finished.
Sorry. I've been chasing this woman for a long time. Decide without me.
Jan, I won't be long. You play.
So you got here at last.
Been in town long?
A few weeks.
I had to find out where you worked. I didn't phone home, because of Wolf.
He wouldn't have told the police.
I was in no mood for his reproaches.
Aren't you afraid of being recognized?
Is that magazine your main job now?
Don't get it wrong, it's not the usual women's magazine...
No beauty hints, no fashion, no recipes.
You really think that's important work?
Absolutely essential.
You wouldn't have thought so before.
You were always so logical.
I haven't changed. It's your logic I find wrong.
Let's talk about that.
I didn't come here to talk about your politics.
I did.
Werner's committed suicide.
He was always suicidal.
I've no time to mourn the death of a neurotic intellectual.
Jan is at my place.
What am I supposed to do with him?
Didn't Werner settle all that?
He dumped Jan on me.
Maybe he should have left him in a bank, hoping you'd show up there.
Look after him!
I did my share of mothering for you kids at home.
But this is quite different now.
I don't know anyone and I can't take him with me.
So you're forcing me into the life you no longer want to lead.
I didn't tell Werner to dump Jan on you.
What has he to do?
Not cop out.
You copped out first.
You still haven't understood why I left.
I hope your coming here meant you'd thought it over.
I agree with some of your ideas.
Ideas change nothing.
They do, but more slowly.
I can't make revolution when I'm old.
Just because you're young, this is the right moment?
I've asked Sabine to find a foster home for Jan.
Will you make sure they're suitable people? Please.
I'll be lucky to find anyone at all.
I thought the child would help Werner.
I was so sure Jan would be all right with him when I left.
How can someone end his life without having made some use of it?
- Can you understand that? - Sometimes.
"When the Lord ended the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream."
"The Lord hath done great things for us."
"The Lord has freed us from a long self-imposed servitude."
Give us light that we may see the error of our ways.
Jan, do you remember Marianne? Mama Annelie.
No.
- Not at all? - No, I'm too young.
The mothers helped to bring about the catastrophe, then suffered most.
Caption eight.
On Hitler's mother's birthday, 12 August...
...profilic mothers were awarded the Cross of Honour of the German Mother.
In bronze for four or more children.
It was inscribed: "The child ennobles the mother."
Adolf Hitler wrote:
"What a man sacrifices in a nations struggle...
...a woman sacrifices in the struggle to preserve that nation."
"Each child she bears is a battle won for the survival of her nation."
Sterility was regarded as subversive.
I had a dream about you.
A nice dream this time, or the same old dream again?
Still the same.
- Who was I unfaithful with this time? - Marianne.
Marianne's not my type.
When you met us you liked her.
- Because she was plump and weak. - Am I weak?
I think you're the stronger of you two.
I don't know if that's still true.
Dear Julie
In this Beirut camp I gave away all the clothes I brought from Europe.
At first I kept my make-up box...
...but next day that seemed strange and I gave it away, too.
No one forces you to do it. They wait until it occurs to you.
Al Fatah takes a great interest in the Arab women.
They visit them at home, talk to the men...
...try to explain that women, too, can work for the revolution.
In one house we were in the man said: "If my wife is with Al Fatah...
...why shouldn't I make the beds sometimes?"
I went to a shop to buy a notepad.
The owner saw my Al Fatah badge and refused to take my money.
"It's for the revolution", he said.
When he refused money for cigarettes...
...I told him they were for me personally, not for the revolution.
Then he let me pay for them.
It's the doorbell.
See who it is.
Why should I?
Three o'clock.
- Marianne. - My name is Chris.
What do you want?
Coffee.
Say something.
I'm not your master of ceremonies.
Are you crazy?
People are asleep, you'll wake the whole house.
We need coffee.
How long have you been back?
You're taking a big risk, coming to me.
How can you go on living here like this?
Say something.
I've nothing to say.
I'll just set the breakfast table.
I think we're unwelcome here.
We're going.
I'm coming.
What are you doing?
Nothing I can use. Go back to sleep.
Leave it until tomorrow.
Our prisons are prettily situated.
Please wait. I won't be more than an hour.
Whom do you wish to see?
My sister. Marianne Klein.
Place your identity card and your visitor's pass on the turntable.
Take the visitor's pass and go with the officer.
Please follow.
Your bag.
Your coat.
Take it off.
Undo your trousers.
Shoes off.
Lift up your pullover. It's regulations.
What can I hide there?
If you don't, I can't let you in.
Thank you.
You can take the money and cigarettes.
Your key.
Please wait here.
Juliane. Marianne. Come to dinner!
- Let's go down. - No, you.
- You first. - No, you.
Together, then. One, two, three.
Who is fastest? One, two, three.
Your sister refuses to see you.
But I have a permit.
Please come with me.
Why won't she see me? Did she tell you?
She doesn't speak to us, nor we to them. Come. I'll take you back.
Do you want to eat something?
Not now.
What made you so sure she would't see me?
If you live her way, there's no place for sentiment.
Perhaps she was afraid to see me.
Afraid? Marianne?
We've no idea what she's been through.
Write to her.
Say you're sorry she's been arrested.
Do you think they allow letters?
From relatives? Certainly.
But we were going to Schneider's lecture.
He'll come again.
Why don't you go alone?
You know my sister was arrested two weeks ago. No need to watch now.
Julie, do you believe in life after death?
Otherwise neither life nor death would make sense.
That bothers you?
Yes. I'd rather die right away.
Mr. Schaum told us that they need volunteer workers in Africa.
Then go to Doctor Schweitzer. Her plays the organ better than Daddy.
I want to be used, to be of some use to something.
Wanting to be used means voluntary slavery.
Come Lord Jesus, be our guest, let our meal by You be blessed.
Juliane won't go to the school dance.
But her dress is ready.
If she won't wear a dress to school, she needs no dress for a dance.
The headmaster phoned me this morning.
You wore your black slacks to school again.
They're black jeans.
Can't you ensure she wears a skirt?
Mommy has enough to do with the little ones. Anyway, I prefer jeans.
You'll wear a skirt, even if I have to dress you myself.
Never! Go on, hit me if you can square that with your Sunday sermons.
Get out!
Finish your meal outside.
Please Father, let Juliane come, too.
Please!
I'll have to think it over.
Do come with us? Why won't you come?
Because you were pretending to be Daddy's little girl.
Don't be a killjoy. I did it for you.
I don't need your help.
Daddy refuses to come.
I don't want to go to the dance.
Do you want to stay here with him?
For this dance, students invite parents.
Please escort your parents to their seats. Next, a Viennese Waltz.
What did you bet?
A ticket to America.
- Won't you write about your sister? - I'm still doing the Africa article.
- It can wait. - No, I don't want to write about Marianne.
If we never mention our own lives our readers won't trust us.
By reporting our own problems we'll persuade our readers...
...to think about themselves, to try to change their own lives.
Take the response to Carola's account of her divorce.
I'm still going through all the letters.
My story has nothing to do with other women's.
I want our reporting on Marianne to differ from the rest of the press.
It's difficult for her to write against the general hate campaign.
I wouldn't let them silence me.
Besides, an open discussion with your sister would do you good, wouldn't it?
Are you trying to save me psychiatrist's fees?
Sit down.
On the other side.
You forgot something in your letter.
Remember our bodices that buttoned at the back?
Even when we weren't at speaking terms...
...we always buttoned each other up.
That's right.
The long stocking-suspenders - always to short and scratchy.
Mine were too long - your hand-me-downs.
- Can't you visit Karl, too? - No sussuration!
Take him comics.
- They only allow relatives. - Forget your dislike of him.
I can't.
We've worked for years. Our work's important. Not just for me.
We were sucessful in a small way. Your bombs have destroyed everything.
Do you think it was easy for us?
You harmed our work, not theirs. Even Werner thought you took the easy way.
You wrote you wanted to help me.
I see that was just an empty phrase.
Today I can't...
Please let me out.
He with no house will never build one. He who is alone will remain so.
He will not sleep, he'll read. Write long letters.
He'll pace the garden paths when leaves are falling.
Very good, Marianne. Sit down, please.
Now we'll interpret the poem together.
- Juliane, you begin. - I think it's soppy.
That's not interpretation. That's subjective opinion.
This is one of the most beautiful German poems.
I'd prefer "Ballad of the Jewish whore Marie Sanders".
You're trying to divert attention from your ignorance of Rilke.
And what are you diverting attention from?
If they had anything planned, it would be for tonight.
You're disrupting the class. Leave the room.
Go on like this and you'll stay in this class another year.
1945. The camps filled up.
Towns with 100.000 people crammed into them.
Heavy industry turned to these reservoirs of labour.
Factories had their private camps, out of bounds to the SS.
Steyr, Krupp, Henkel, I.G.Farben, Siemens... all got manpower this way.
The Nazis might win the war and these new towns were part of their economy.
But they were losing the war.
No coal for crematoria, no bread for people.
The camp streets were piled with corpses. There was typhus
when the Allies opened the gates...
All the gates opened.
The survivors looked on. Uncomprehending.
Where they liberated? Will they go back to everyday life?
"I'm not guilty", says the Kapo.
"I'm not guilty", says the officer.
"I'm not guilty"
Then who is guilty?
As I speak to you, water is filling the lime pits.
Water from the marshes and the ruins.
Water as cold and dark as our poor memories.
War is just dozing.
On the parade ground, around the blocks, grass grows again.
A deserted village...
...as ominous as ever.
The crematorium is out of use, Nazi methods out of fashion.
Nine million dead haunt this landscape.
- Your eyes are quite red. - It's the neon.
You've lost ten pounds since last time.
I'll get beautifully slim in here.
Stop it. We only have half an hour. Why are you doing this?
Why deliberatetly weaken yourself?
- How many days now? - Twenty-five.
And we'll continue until they put us all together.
One thing I don't get. You claim to be an élite...
...yet wish to be treated as ordinary prisoners.
Is that logical?
What are you talking about?
Are you writing for the Springer press now?
Do you know what goes on here?
I see no one but you and my lawyer once a month.
Otherwise nobody, except for these stinking screws.
I get no letters, they let no mail throught...
...except your letters and Mother's.
I hear nothing - they let no noise in. Sound proofing works perfect, you know.
I've pounded the walls to hear something from the next cell.
They're empty.
I never know the time. They leave the light on, the pigs.
It's on, day and night.
You can't sleep with that light, that silence.
I listen to my breathing...
...as it goes in through my nose and out of my mouth.
It sounds different every time.
Silence is different here. Not like at home when we were afraid at night.
This silence here softens you up.
You lose all sense of time and, ultimately, of self.
That's what they want.
Then they shove you in the loony-bin.
Don't worry. I'm OK. I talk to myself...
...whatever crosses my mind.
Whatever comes into my head.
I pace up and down...
...and say aloud whatever crosses my mind.
You know what? Those rotten Bible verses of ours...
...they always pop up first.
- I've forgotton our Celan poem. - All of it?
Visiting time's up!
Bring me my cello.
Your pullover is beautiful. Give it to me.
"Speak to friends, writers, liberals, celebrities."
"The should damn well do something for us."
She doesn't ask, she orders.
Juliane, Marianne, get up! Air-raid! Waik up!
Shall I take it out?
I told you it was a crazy idea.
I want to know how she feels.
How long can she take this forced feeding?
With proper medical supervision, indifenitely.
If she resists, they put the tube up her nose, so she can't bite it.
I don't mean physically, but mentally, spiritually.
Can humans take that sort of treatment at all?
The subject hasn't been studied much.
Now I sometimes feel like fainting.
She was always so sensitive to pain, almost a hypochondriac.
A sign for imaginativness.
Do you think she lost it?
I hear you want more time off.
I sympathize, but we can't spare you, we're too few.
I'll work nights to make it up.
It's terrible the way the papers write about your sister.
I think it's your job to present a different picture.
Not uncritical, but at her trial she'll need all possible sympathy.
She despises my work, she despises our paper.
If I write about her, she'll say I'm against her.
Then you must help her, even against her wishes.
She thinks I can help only by continuing her work - she'd call it fight.
- That's completely absurd. - Yes, I know.
Does she actually demand that of you?
Helga, can you come here?
Why should that picture have escaped the fire?
In our house we never had such bloodthirsty pictures...
...but one with angel-musicians.
One of them was playing the flute.
As a child I often thought:
"If I could play the flute like that, I'd just float up to heaven...
...without any effort or prayers."
Now Lisa's also left home, I've time for music.
Do you still play the piano?
You should, Juliane. Music dispels one's fears.
Father was as relieved as I was that nothing happened to Marianne...
...and she didn't shoot when they arrested her.
But he won't admit it.
Sometimes I think that if she were dead, he might love her again.
Do you know what I call him now? The Egoist.
When I think of him, it's never Father, but The Egoist.
You took a long time to realize that.
Visit her with me, secretly.
- Secretly? - Tell Father you're visiting me.
That would be the first time I'd lie to him.
She'll spend all her life like this?
Give me a cigarette, too.
Once I'd have wept about this, or prayed.
Do you think I'm right not to do either now?
I've so many questions to ask both of you.
Ought I to write them down?
I'm used to trusting people, not questioning them. Do you understand?
Must we always quarrel about Marianne?
No.
Or should I take her side, as in your dreams?
My parents have advised me to leave you.
Maybe you should take their advice.
I'd like us to marry.
But we've been living together so long.
I'd like to make them all feel ashamed.
You'd only have more problems.
- Let's go away on holiday. - I've used all my holiday time.
And I must be here for the trial.
You needn't worry about me as long as I remain alive.
Tell Mum, too. I just don't want her here again.
I don't want any added melodrama in this misery.
I find her very changed.
Please keep her away.
I didn't answer the old man's two-faced letter.
When you were fifteen, you still sat on his lap.
Have you visited Jan?
They don't mention you. I can't see him.
- You don't contest that? - How?
Maybe it's better that way for him.
He has a different name now.
Thomas Bräuer.
Jan has everything he needs.
Third World kids are dying every day.
No one helps.
You could have gone to help develop a Third World country, and taken Jan.
But that would have been arduous and unspectacular...
...daily drudgery.
You used to be so strong, demanding, uncompromising.
Can't you see you're deluding yourself? Look at yourself.
You're crumbling to bits.
Keep up the daily grind you're so proud of, till you're in the shit.
- Who will you help then? - Who do you help here in jail?
This is just a step on the way.
Give me that handkerchief, or this visit is over.
That's mine. Give it to me.
- What did you want that night? - It was your last chance to join us.
- And who'd take care of you now? - If it's too much bother, forget it.
Nonsense. I want to.
They'll never get us down, for they have no power over our souls.
Just you wait. In ten years, or twenty...
...then you can judge which of us was right.
What do you mean by naive?
What does naive mean?
You're not naive, you allow others to exploit you.
If you had a brother, wouldn't you help him?
Not if he treated me as Marianne treats you.
You'd mortgage ten years' holiday to make life easier for those in jail...
...while life here gets more and more uncomfortable.
You'll never understand.
"I need..."
She never says "Please", or "I'd like".
"I need several pairs of woolen socks."
Her cell is cold, she suffers from cold feet.
"Four slips, smooth, short, mustn't be synthetic fibre."
"Beige slacks, lightweight cotton."
So now she's no longer cold.
Stop it. I know the letter.
"A hairbrush, mascara brown."
"Eyebrow pencil, brown. One Docteur Payot, colour chestnut."
"Nail-siccors, tweezers. Powder compact, white."
Why this urge for make-up? You don't use any.
Let her have a little colour in her life.
Have you worked out what all this costs?
Plus your time travelling, visiting, writing letters, raising funds.
I use my own money.
I'm worried about you, in case you hadn't noticed.
I won't have you ruining yourself for Marianne.
Wrong. You're worried about your own well-being, your peace and comfort.
I'll watch this elsewhere.
If you bothered a bit more about Jan, I wouldn't object.
I'll never put up with people doing nothing about it.
What are you doing at this hour?
Read this.
It's really good.
You exploitet me, wrote about me like every bourgeois journalist.
With a lot more understanding.
You can't sketch my character from our life. It began with my comrades.
Why did you recall our bodices, why remind me of them?
To please you. It's reality that matters, not words.
Our childhood was reality. We can't shed our past.
I proved we can.
How? A generation ago you'd have been a Hitler fan. I left that out. To please you.
Dear Julie, it's still the same deadly game.
Naturally, I'll never tire of telling you I understand you...
...everything about you, as a social being - which means product.
Why that's so is only half the story.
That's why after ten or thirty years...
...you can still stay on the wrong side of the fence, with the guilty.
For proof, if you haven't already done so...
...read George Jackson's prison letters, "Soledad Brother".
Please visit me. Don't be angry, you know what I meant.
Federal Penitentiary
Marianne was transferred to a modern block. No bars, but with special glass.
Of course I visited her again.
I wrote letters, talked to her lawyers.
Of course I complied with her requests...
...and my first words at every visit were always:
"Do you need anything? What can I do for you?"
You have such cold hands.
You must press the button when you speak.
Only when you speak.
But I can't talk to you through this damned thing.
You must.
It's the only way for now. Put yourself together.
Wear brighter colours next time.
I dreamt about you.
I dreamt I set you free.
I prepared for months, and when I came for you, you wouldn't leave.
As long as you only dream it.
Your face is all blurred. I can't see it properly.
- When are you coming again? - In two or three weeks I think.
- When, exactly? - I'll write and tell you.
Too many lines.
Yes, too mangled. Mine is as it should be.
Nearly forgot.
You might just as well write your articles here.
About what? I can't even speak the language.
But you've got eyes.
It's Marianne.
What did they say?
She's dead.
Hanged herself.
Father doesn't believe it was suicide.
Lord, I call to thee, for in me is darkness, but in thee is light.
I am alone, but thou art by me.
I am weak, but thou art my stay.
I am troubled, but in thee is peace. I am bitter, but in thee is patience.
I know not thy ways, but thou knowest mine.
You'll begin to feel drowsy, but don't worry, it'll do you good.
You'll never see a face like that again.
How long must you search for such a face?
Wolf, I heard very clear: I have to go on... for her.
Do you remember the bodices?
Father said: "She won't kill herself."
I might, but she wouldn't.
Not her... I might, but she wouldn't.
I'm going round in circles.
I need your help. You were my sister's lawyer, please be mine.
They won't show me official reports, but can't I ask you to check them?
Yes.
Would you agree?
Yes.
I can't pay you much now, but I'll do what I can, I promise.
We can discuss that later.
The death certificate, her belongings - can you ask for those for me?
I'll need your authorization.
Somewhere in that there must be explanations, clues...
You were there the morning of the day she died.
Did you notice any detail that might refute the official version?
You can't start studying medicine from scratch.
You letting me come here is already a help.
They didn't even examine her fingernails - yes, that's routine.
If there was a struggle first, maybe it could be proved that way.
You're making me ill. How long is this to go on?
You know how long.
No, I don't.
Until I've got proof.
And when will that be?
- When? - Soon.
How long have you been saying that?
Nobody will believe you, even if you show them proof.
That's not the point.
- What about us? - We have a lifetime ahead of us...
A lifetime, with a corpse between us.
I want no more of this ghoulishness, it won't bring her back to life.
I don't want to reproach you.
Then don't.
I can't go on like this.
I haven't such close family ties, so I can't understand them.
Even if I could, I still wouldn't understand you.
It's self-destruction and you want me to watch. I'm no help. I'm dying, too.
If I could help you in some way...
...just by being here...
...but you aren't even aware of that.
You haven't noticed me pacing this room for the last fifteen minutes.
Can you tell me why?
Or must I get an autopsy on you to find out?
Maybe we should separate for a while...
...until I've got all my proof.
So you're prepared to forget our ten years together.
You're a monster! I'll never understand you!
Never!
I understand. You've gone to a lot of trouble, but you forgot one thing.
That business was years ago.
Murder or suicide, nobody cares anymore.
That's like last year's snow.
Your sister, the whole movement belongs to the late 60s and 70s.
Today's news is the Third World, Islam, the energy crisis.
How to behave to survice this century.
My sister was trying to focus attention on the Third World.
Maybe, but you're a journalist, you know the rules.
Topicality means the right news item at the right time.
The rest goes to history's dungheap or into history books.
I'm Sister Gerda. Follow me please.
- Are you a close relative? - Yes.
- And you? - I'm a doctor.
I thought you were a relative, too.
He doesn't speak to us. Perhaps it's due to pain, but he doesn't say.
He's here. Don't be alarmed.
I'm Juliane.
Julie, we were often together.
Do you remember me?
It's a long time ago.
The doctor says he'll be all right after three more transplants.
Young skin, there'll be no scars.
The boy built the dug-out himself.
He often spent all day in there. A very imaginative child.
He asked the cleverest questions - it was a pleasure to hear him.
- Does anyone know who did it? - No.
Someone must have found out that your sister was his real mother.
Do you know how it happened?
The person must have known about the dug-out. Thomas was asleep, perhaps.
The person must have poured petrol in and set fire to it, I suppose.
We can't get a word out of the boy.
All we know is that he ran home screaming.
Let me help you with your coat.
Do you like the room?
We can look for some different posters.
There are lot's. There's a shop around the corner.
Would you like that?
Are you hungry?
Maybe you'd like a nap, then I'll show you how everything works here.
Shall I cover you?
No, I can do it myself.
I'm thirsty.
Can you go back to sleep? Or shall I stay with you?
Why did she throw bombs?
- Who says that? - Everybody.
- Don't do that. - I'm sorry.
Doesn't matter. Go away.
Call me if you need me.
You're wrong, Jan. Your mother was an exceptional woman.
Don't you believe me?
I'll tell you about her.
Everything?
All I know, but I'm sure it's not everything.
I must know everything.
Begin now.
Begin!
subtitles transcripted by jonsí