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- Is this a new prescription? - I don't know.
- Is it stronger? - That's all the same thing.
- What did they tell you? - Nothing. I'm normal.
So why did they change it?
Why don't you tell me the truth?
Didn't I just tell you?
Is something wrong with you?
No.
Ten?
Ma, everything's money for you. Give me twenty.
No.
Don't take my car.
Wash it and put it away.
Look.
This letter's from Deutsche Bank, Germany's leading bank.
It's signed by its manager Paul Aschreiner.
It says that this week the president of the USA
will sign the decree that will release the funds.
- Give me back my money. - Trust me, it's coming.
You've been saying that for a year.
It's a long-term investment.
What do I need from you?
Bank account certificate and copy of your ID,
so they can wire you the money.
- I don't have a bank account. - How will you get the money?
Javier, just give me back my investment.
Poet, are you stupid?
This is a business opportunity.
You have to smell business when it's in front of you.
What you've invested is nothing
compared to what you're going to receive.
Look.
My source says that the bonds are being redeemed.
Everything has the approval of the government of Zimbabwe.
You invested in currency bonds worth ten million dollars.
I'll make you a millionaire, you son of a bitch.
I'm telling you.
You can dedicate yourself to writing poems
on a beautiful farm where there's a river.
It's a business opportunity, Mom. Just let me use your account.
- I'm not giving you another peso. - Who's asking for money?
They're transferring me money.
I said no.
Why're you doing this to me, mom? Why?
Mom?
Mom.
What's wrong with you?
I need to sit down.
What is it?
You've got something, right?
It'll pass.
Tell me the truth.
You're making me cranky.
Me?
I'm old. That's what I have.
I won't be with you forever.
Do you want to die?
I would assist you.
And I would go with you If you want me to.
What?
Come with me?
Have you been drinking?
Oscar Restrepo, poet born in Santuario in 1968.
Historian from the University of Antioquia.
Great admirer and scholar of José Asunción Silva
to whom he dedicates some of his poems.
In 1992, his book Los Desusos
was awarded First Prize at the 5th National Poetry Competition
organized by the Pepe Sixto Aguinaga Cultural Center.
Thank you very much.
Good evening.
First of all,
thank you very much Alonso
for inviting me to share my poetry
in this beautiful sanctuary of words
where each poet is a little god
and each one of you, as you interpret the poet,
is another little god.
Oscar Restrepo would define himself as a perpetual...
an everlasting dreamer.
A seeker of chimeras through words.
I started reading when I was twelve
and then I began to write verses.
When I was fifteen I already felt, I thought I was a poet.
There were no other pretensions in my heart.
To be a vain and misfortunate poet.
I say misfortunate because suffering has been
the raw material of my poetry.
Those who have read my books can testify to this.
I identify with Wilde when he says,
"Where there is suffering, there is sacred soil."
Although I must admit that we poets are hyperbolic.
And that hyperbole we use...
This constant exaggeration of our suffering,
we take it to a third or fourth level.
One of my readers once said to me,
"Poet...
How is it possible for you to make
such a beautiful poem, but so sad?"
and I quoted Ernesto Sabato's words from his book...
Oscar!
What poem are you reading?
No poet has yet attained the virtuosity of José Asunción Silva
in this fucking country!
His accentuations, his rhythm, his musicality.
Not in a hundred years. Not a one.
Don't tell me he was better than this dude...
Who?
The one who won the prize, with the mustache.
- García Márquez? - Yes, García Márquez.
He wrote "The Alchemist."
The Alchemist is from Paulo Coelho.
No, no, no.
García Márquez wrote "A Hundred Years of Solitude."
Yes. García Márquez is the best, buddy.
García Márquez was hungry for recognition.
José Asunción Silva never...
wrote for recognition.
That's why only his mother knew him.
Only his mother?
Oh man.
Look at this.
You think he's not important?
- García Márquez is on the fifty. - Overrated!
Go buy some beer with that.
José Asunción's very life was a true poem.
Thirty years old he was when he shot himself through the heart.
- Swimming in debt... - We all have debts.
...and devastated by the death of his beloved sister Elvira.
One night
A night full of perfumes,
murmurs and the music of wings
One night
in which burned
in the humid bridal shadow
the fantastic fireflies.
PART ONE - FAILURE
Pack your things and leave.
I pay for this place and don't want you here.
Who will take care of mom? I'm the only one by her side.
- Is that why you plan to kill her? - Let me talk to him.
You can kill yourself, but you're not taking her with you.
Carlos, get out, please.
You have fifteen minutes to pack.
Why did you say that to mom?
She's dying.
She's not dying.
She's doing fine for her age.
- She has something. - You're not well, right?
How's the alcohol problem going?
The alcohol problem is going relatively badly.
If mom dies, what will you do?
Her pension runs out and Carlos kicks you out of here.
I'll figure it out.
You'll end up homeless.
What happened to you, Oscar?
You were so smart, professional, but look at you.
How long since you held a job?
- I'm a poet. - You're unemployed.
A poet I am if being a poet is it.
Cut the crap!
I'm expecting some money from a deal.
- What deal? - A very big business deal.
Have you thought of Daniela?
No, no, Yolanda. Don't fuck with me.
- What have you done for that girl? - No, Yolanda. Please.
- Don't bring that up. - Do you even call her?
That's enough. Don't go there, please. Don't fuck with me.
Why don't you take the job?
I won't be a school teacher, much less teach philosophy.
I'm not going to teach that.
You have to, you're not in a position to choose.
That's not my thing.
What's your thing?
I'm writing a book.
A book...
Oscar, for God's sake!
Let's do this.
I'm going to talk to Carlos and tell him that
you and I made a deal, so he won't kick you out.
I'll call William and tell him that
Monday morning you'll be at the school.
But you have to promise me.
- I'm leaving this place. - Oscar.
I'm going to leave this place.
Don't take my car.
Hello.
- What happened? - No, nothing.
I just wanted to say hi. How are you?
Fine. You?
Fine.
I'm having lunch.
Are you?
I'm sorry. I'll come back later.
Have you had lunch?
Do you want to come in?
Is your mom there?
She doesn't know yet, she's looking at options.
But she has to decide fast
cause the entrance exam is almost here.
What do you like?
I'm not sure yet.
Audiovisual Communication.
Philology.
Languages.
That's great.
Where do you want to study?
Ideally, University of Antioquia.
I really don't like University of Antioquia.
She might end up throwing stones with those troublemakers.
Isn't it true?
It's very hard to get in anyway.
If you don't get in, you'll enroll at University of Medellín.
I don't know.
What do you mean you don't know? You know!
She's ashamed because that one is very expensive.
I'd have to take out a loan, but well, I'll have to.
- How much is it? - Nine million a semester.
I can help.
Do you have five or ten bucks? I'll pay you back.
This was my first book to be published.
And that's my second book.
- National Poetry Prize? - Yes, sir.
Beautiful.
You were very young here.
I was about twenty four...
Twenty five years old.
Have you taught in high school?
No, sir, but in college. I was a university professor.
And what happened?
In this personal quest, trying to find my own voice,
I dedicated myself entirely to writing.
I know what kind of person you are.
Your sister was very honest with me.
I won't judge you.
I'm going to assume that you want to contribute to this institution
so that the students can become better human beings.
He didn't feel good.
He says that's not for him.
That he doesn't feel like a school teacher.
That he's a poet.
Oscar, talk to Yolanda.
He won't talk.
- Oscar, do you hear me? - He's listening.
Oscar, I'm really angry. What did we agree on?
You're making me look bad to William.
If you don't go back, forget about me, Oscar.
He's like a brat.
Oscar!
He won't talk.
He won't talk. I don't know what we're going to do.
He's very capricious.
I don't know what to do anymore.
Hello, Oscar.
Why are you here so early?
What happened?
No, nothing.
Nothing happened.
It's just that...
I was wondering if maybe there's a way
to make my books sell more.
Make them more visible, or offer them to people.
Your books are there, on display.
You know this is hardly a business.
Or...
Do some kind of publicity so people buy them.
We could host a reading dedicated to your work.
Weren't you writing a new book?
Or maybe you have a job I can do around here?
What kind of job?
I don't know...
Office work...
or coordinating things.
The thing is, my daughter is about to start college.
I need the money.
We are a small house.
Almost everyone here is a volunteer.
We're having a hard time getting funding for the Poetry Festival.
Perhaps you could teach at the poetry school.
But I'd have to talk to Efraín, because he's the one in charge.
He's coming later on, will be reading with you.
We could talk to him and see.
Three times National Poetry Prize winner,
Vorágine Prize for his first novel,
Buenos Aires City Prize for his second novel,
Julio Estrada Essay Prize,
among many other accolades.
His work, committed to Latin American reality,
explores its roots
and denounces its social and political mechanisms.
Efraín Mendoza
is one of the most revolutionary voices of Colombian literature.
Good evening.
Thank you so much for being here.
Some thirty years ago,
Alonso and I, with a few other friends,
founded this house.
It hasn't been easy.
In my case, my many occupations prevent me from
devoting to it all the time I'd like, but...
seeing it tonight bursting with love for poetry
is truly breathtaking.
I'm also thrilled to see here
these extremely talented young poets
from our poetry school.
I'm very honored to be their mentor this year.
I want to dedicate this poem to them.
Arts are stratified, they belong to the elites.
True artists only live for the pleasure of creating.
Sure, one has to eat,
but only to keep on creating.
Tell that to a child from a poor neighborhood, without education,
with no chance of any artistic training.
Yes, I agree.
You, for example, you've had an education, privileges.
A girl who grows up in extreme poverty,
by age fifteen has two or three kids.
Do you think she's going to think about writing poetry?
No.
They should do something to stop teen pregnancies,
but that's not what's happening right now.
Look, art won't stop bombs. Poetry won't stop war.
Maybe...
But art, poetry, can advocate for a better society.
I don't know, Oscar, don't get me wrong,
but I don't think you have the conditions
to teach at the poetry school.
What conditions?
We know you.
How do you know me?
Let's just host a reading dedicated to your work.
Wouldn't you like to be on television?
We can get you a TV interview to promote your books.
Sure, we can get you an interview.
You could reach a wider audience.
Wouldn't you like that?
Good morning to you, to all our viewers.
We are so happy to be here with you.
Today we will have music, dancing, poetry.
So welcome to "These Mornings."
Let's start with our first guest.
Don Arnulfo Velez, who is very happy here.
He's the mayor of the town of Sopetrán.
He's here to talk about their
beautiful and delicious Fruit Festival
taking place from January 20 to 24.
Mr. Mayor, good morning and welcome.
Good morning. Welcome everyone to the Fruit Festival.
We also have a very special guest.
This is Óscar Restrepo, an award-winning poet.
Winner of the National Poetry Prize
organized by the Pepe Sixto Aguinaga Cultural Center.
He has come to share his beautiful poetry with us.
Why don't we start with a beautiful love poem
for all our viewers?
- A love poem? - Yes, one that touches our hearts.
While Oscar looks for the perfect poem,
let's welcome a very important urban music singer.
He's called JB.
In fact, the song we've been listening to since our show started
is his new release, "Wet my Jacuzzi"
80K views already on his YouTube channel.
That's right, you know,
I'm always reinventing myself for my fans.
If I knew it was a gossip show I wouldn't have gone.
You think there are poetry TV shows around here?
- You disrespected me. - Oscar, that's all there is.
Look at me, you think I belong there?
You asked for help, that's all there is.
I don't know.
I think...
What is it you want?
How do you do it?
How do I do what?
You think I'm a good poet?
You don't think I have talent, do you?
You had something.
You were so passionate, restless.
And you've managed to write two or three lovely things.
I thought I'd be better off at my age.
Better how, with more recognition?
I've failed.
It's not about recognition.
It's about you.
You're a poem. A pretty sad one, I'd say.
You want me to be honest with you?
You're not going to change, you can't change.
That's who you are.
And you have some very big demons within you.
Well, maybe you're like Kafka,
or José Asunción Silva,
one of those creatures who achieved recognition after their death.
But for that,
you should've written some fucking amazing piece of poetry,
and that's something you haven't done yet, to be honest.
You could sell many more books if I were your manager.
I'd connect you with the right people.
I should've killed myself at thirty.
You should write poems about war, violence, poverty,
the indigenous, the amazon, fags...
All those things that Europeans like about us.
This man is so smart.
Listen to this poem, my authorship.
How bright is the moon
Round as a balloon
If it comes crashing down
It'll crush you, you fucking...
Oscar, why are you doing this to me?
Don't come here, please.
I'm sorry.
What are you doing?
I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry, just don't do this.
I'm sorry I'm like this.
I'm sorry you have to tolerate this father.
I'm trying.
You don't have to try anything.
I'm fine.
I want to help you.
You don't have to, don't worry.
Alright, I'm very sensitive lately.
Look, I have to go.
- Can you go first? - Alright.
You're not going to make me look bad with William.
I'm ashamed with him, he's been so kind to you.
I told him you were sick.
And that you are coming back on Monday to teach your class.
And if you don't go, I'll pack your things myself.
Oscar! Open up.
Suffering.
Twilight.
What could be said of twilight?
Wouldn't it be the dusk of late sunset
at the shimmering break of dawn of the solar day?
Black holes where everything is forgotten
in the voracity of swamped jaws.
Planets subjugated by the cold.
Spreading silence...
on closed down moons.
Do you have any questions?
And poetry?
Poetry.
Poetry is...
Do you know poems?
Have you written or read any poems?
Teach, look. She writes poems.
Do you write poems?
Love poems, for your boyfriend, about what?
Yurlady, show him.
Are all these poems yours?
Yes, some are poems and other things I write.
And the drawings are also yours?
Yes.
Do you also live in profound sadness?
Are you melancholic?
No, I just like writing when I feel that way.
Do you read?
Sort of.
Sometimes.
What do you read?
I don't know.
I like Pizarnik.
Alejandra Pizarnik?
"Alejandra, Alejandra
I'm beneath you
Alejandra"
A teacher made us read her, and I really liked the poems.
Did that teacher teach you?
More or less.
Do you want to be a poet?
What would you like to be?
I don't know.
I like doing makeup,
doing hair,
I'm learning how to do nails.
Things like that.
Could you lend me this notebook?
Okay.
"It could be a mistake
Of the midday sun
that this ray of light
bounced off the wall
and came into my room.
It may not be its intention
to warm my bed,
to paint the green yellow,
to dye the purple pink,
to make me feel less blue.
It could be that they spoke,
my room and the sun,
to make this place feel
more of a refuge,
less of a prison."
They sent me some more exams.
Oscar!
What exams?
During the Renaissance
Aristotelian authority was rejected.
And discussed in The Late Middle Ages.
The...
The humanism of this period had a basically Neoplatonic orientation.
Wouldn't you like to go to university?
I don't know. Maybe.
Why maybe?
There are other priorities in my house.
What priorities?
Who do you live with?
With my grandma, my uncle,
my brother,
my other two sisters and my nephews.
That's one big family.
So all of your siblings have children?
Yes.
Are they much older?
More or less.
Maicol is the oldest.
He is twenty-two.
Twenty-two and already has a son?
And your sisters?
What about them?
Are they also mothers?
Yes.
Veronica has two.
How old is Veronica?
I think she is twenty.
- And Karen has a son. - How old is Karen?
- Seventeen. - Seventeen?
She's dumb about that boyfriend she's got.
And he got her a kid real soon.
My mom also lives with us,
but she only comes on Sundays because she works in a family home.
She's a maid?
You don't have children?
No.
PART TWO - MAGNUM OPUS
They're good.
They're very beautiful, and she has many.
What do you want to do?
I don't know.
I feel like she has something special.
I should do something, shouldn't I?
Like, what?
I don't know.
Don't you have that award?
The scholarship for young poets?
And how do you know she didn't copy them from somewhere?
No, they're all hers.
Well, bring her by. Let's meet her.
But you want her to join the poetry school?
I'd have to meet her first.
No, I'm already teaching her.
I was thinking more about...
the prize or a scholarship or some other form of help.
The only support we have is the prize we give
during the Poetry Festival to a promising young poet
which includes money and the publication of the poems.
Can she compete for that?
Only those who are part of the poetry school can compete for the award.
- Bring her and we'll see. - I'm not sure, Efraín.
Well, if the girl is talented, I don't see why not help her.
But you're responsible for bringing her and taking her home.
We can't afford it right now. We don't have a single peso.
I don't know.
I'd have to ask my grandma.
Do you want me to talk to her?
- Did you tell your mother? - No
I'd have to ask her mom.
She comes on Sundays.
You're her teacher, right?
Yes, ma'am.
And she will get a prize?
Possibly, if she participates.
And the prize is money?
- It's money. Yes, ma'am. - How much?
I'm not sure.
- Are you not eating lunch? - I won't be long.
Well, I can't bring her because of my knees,
and I have to look after the children.
I can take her.
If we don't have to pay... because our situation is tough
and we don't have enough to buy an egg.
Do you want to go?
Honey, don't be silly, they're giving you money.
Don't waste the opportunities the Lord gives us.
Thank you.
Karen, the baby is crying.
Veronica, turn it down.
He's so ugly.
Yurlady!
Professor, pardon my rags.
- Edilson, I'm the girl's uncle. - Pleasure.
- Excuse me, let me grab my clothes. - Help yourself.
Hello, Giant.
I admire you, Giant.
You're so tall, you're the moon's friend.
Even birds live in your hair.
Can you see my house from above?
Have you ever captured a shooting star?
Does your rough skin feel my kicks?
How did you celebrate your 900th birthday?
Is that why you have so many rings?
You never answer my questions.
But we're still friends.
If a girl...
can be friends with a tree.
Oscar, she's fantastic.
For real?
I'd like her to read at the opening of the Poetry Festival.
- And can she compete for the award? - Of course.
I'm even thinking we could do a TV interview with her
to promote the festival itself.
It's a very beautiful story that's worth sharing
and what you're doing for her is beautiful.
I don't know, they are weird.
So you didn't like it?
I don't know.
They loved you.
Are you a poet?
I try to.
Why are you doing this?
Bringing you here?
Because you have a lot of talent.
But how can that help me?
It can help you a lot.
Here, you can cultivate your talent.
They can help you, you can win the prize.
Through art you can find...
a path different from...
from people like you.
People like me?
Yes, someone...
With few opportunities in life,
who can easily drop out of school
because of things like...
having children.
What's wrong with having children?
- Do you want to have children? - Yes.
- Now? - Well...
Right now, I don't know...
Maybe.
You can leave that for later.
You have to think, focus on your future.
You can be a great poet.
Why do I want to be a poet?
Can one make a living out of it?
Didn't you like the pie?
I want to bring it to my nephews.
Cheese?
Yes, or Hawaiian.
Can I get four?
Two cheese and two Hawaiian, please.
- Do you sell milk? - Yes.
- Teach, is it true about the poem? - What?
That you can write a poem to make a girl fall in love with me.
- Yes. - How?
- You have to tell me who she is. - Carolina
- No, I don't like her. - Who do you like?
She's not from school.
Teach, does it have to be a love poem?
Can I write about other things?
- Of course, what would you like? - About my mom or sister.
- You like Angela. - No way.
- Look, the one with the braids. - I don't like her.
Make her fall in love with him.
I don't dig that chick.
Good afternoon.
Teacher, how are you?
- Very well, you? - Fine, thank God.
Teach, I wanted to tell you something.
I have some encyclopedias laying around.
They have all the information you need.
I didn't finish high school, but I've always read a lot.
I can name the capital of any country.
Just ask me.
- Is Yurlady here? - I think she went out.
But teach, those encyclopedias are just gathering dust,
but they're in perfect condition.
They might interest you. Want to see them?
- Edilson, don't bother him. - I'll bring them.
Teach, I wanted to thank you for the groceries.
May God bless you.
You can't imagine how we live here.
Can you believe Edilson bought that
huge TV on credit, and we're very poor.
He hasn't even paid the first installment.
Is Yurlady in?
She might be with her friend Natalia.
She knew you were coming?
I told her I was coming to pick her up.
I'll be honest with you.
The girl is very talented, but lazy.
You have to push her for everything.
These girls need to be handled carefully.
- Grandma, stop gossiping. - It's true.
Teach, look.
Are you giving them away?
Whatever you can give me.
What happened, you're not coming?
Now?
Yes, we're running late.
I don't know if I can.
Why not?
I have to take care of my nephews.
Your grandma didn't mention anything.
Can you come here for a moment?
I'll come tomorrow.
Tomorrow?
No.
You have to make an effort, make sacrifices.
Think about your future.
Where do you want to be in ten, twenty years?
Do you want to be better off or do you want to be doing
your nails with your friend?
Let's try it for a few more days.
If you don't like it, I won't insist.
But if we try it,
let's try it properly. What do you say?
Do you have ten bucks?
What for?
It's for a purple nail polish with sparkles.
- Hi Yurlady, how are you? - Fine.
I'd like to introduce you to Frida.
She's the cultural attaché at the Dutch Embassy,
They are helping us a lot with the festival funding.
And she's super excited 'cause I told her
you'll read your poems at the Festival's opening night.
Hello... Yur-ley.
I've heard a lot about you.
Yurlady.
Very connected.
You and I.
Thank you.
I like poetry because it allows me to express what I feel.
I like to write poems about things that happen to me or things I see.
She's been very talented since she was little.
That's why we think it's very important that she's getting support.
Helping her with resources,
they can succeed with their artistic expressions
so they're not involved with violence.
We've seen that in our city there are boys and girls from all neighborhoods
even the poorest, with a lot of talent and few opportunities.
And through our poetry school, we seek to make art
a tool that drives social change.
How beautiful, how exciting!
Such beautiful work you're doing with the poetry school.
And now that you're here,
promoting the poetry festival, I want to ask Yurlady.
How does it feel like to have the opportunity
to read your poems in front of such a large audience.
Good, I'm very happy.
How beautiful, how wonderful.
What do you like the most?
The opportunity they're giving me and that I'm learning a lot.
Yurlady, and what is your dream?
You could read any of your poems.
They're all beautiful. But you know what?
There isn't one powerful enough
for the opening of the festival.
You could write one about more serious topics.
For example, the problems in the neighborhood,
the lack of opportunities you have, your skin color.
- Do you know what I mean? - No, I think her poems are very good.
They are beautiful, but you have to think
about the audience you're talking to.
How to reach a broader audience and move them.
That could make the jury members
connect more with your poetry so you can win the prize.
It's about writing a poem
that talks about you, what you represent socially.
No, I don't think so. She likes to write simple little things.
Oscar, you're a poet, you know a lot about poetry,
but you have no idea how art works in the face of the audience.
And I think that's precisely why your work isn't, how can I say this?
Well known.
It's not about writing a political pamphlet, far from it,
but about putting into the subtext of your poetry, which is beautiful,
a subtle layer of important themes that will move people,
telling them what they want to hear.
I guarantee that'll make you
a much more incredible poet than you already are.
Are you inviting anyone to the reading?
I don't know.
My mom has to work, and my grandma has to
take care of my nephews.
And my sisters don't like it very much.
Maybe my brother,
but he's always busy too.
And your dad?
You don't have a dad?
No, he doesn't live with us.
But you talk to him?
He left us when I was very little.
- Where is he? - I don't know.
And wouldn't you like to talk to him?
No.
It used to make me sad.
But now I don't feel anything.
I don't expect anything.
And it doesn't even make me angry.
You don't love him?
No.
I have a daughter.
She's almost your age.
Her name is Daniela.
Does she live with you?
No, she lives with her mom.
But you visit her?
Sometimes.
The truth is...
she doesn't love me very much.
And I understand her.
Why doesn't she love you?
I haven't been the best dad.
Do you love her?
A lot.
But I've been...
a pretty...
Troublesome person.
I'm trying.
Why troublesome?
I don't even know.
I haven't been a very...
How should I put it?
Normal person.
I don't think it's very fun...
having a dad like me.
I'm not normal.
If your dad comes looking for you again,
Do you think you could love him again?
I don't think so.
No.
Your dad's outside.
Are you going out or should I tell him to come in?
The money you've lent me.
When's the exam?
Next week.
How are you feeling?
I don't know.
Are you studying?
Yes.
I can help you.
Don't worry, thanks.
I wanted to apologize for what happened last time.
Don't worry about it.
I'm very proud of you.
Thank you.
If you don't pass your exam,
I'll pay for your college.
Oscar, please don't.
I know you resent me a lot.
I don't resent you at all.
You don't feel anything?
What am I supposed to feel?
I'm changing.
This time it's different.
Okay.
You don't care.
Right?
Oscar, what do you want me to say?
You're like a child.
I'm sorry.
Do you hate me?
I pity you...
I have to keep studying.
While art frees itself from the regulatory sphere
of its aesthetic proposal through social and financial control,
as it reclaims the supremacy of its established powers.
The artist is an autonomous being, and the work even more so.
In the text, "reclaims" is equivalent to:
A. to fight, B. to deny,
C. to reach, D. to oppose.
A. to fight.
Did you get that one right?
I'm better at reading comprehension.
I leave the logical reasoning for last, I don't have time.
You'll do fine.
If I don't pass, I'll kill myself.
No, no, it's not that bad.
If you don't pass, you'll try again.
Is grandma alone when you're not here?
That's my natural state.
Sometimes Yolanda comes, but she often stays alone.
I could accompany her.
If you accompany her,
I'll help you study.
I ask her, how are you? She doesn't even look at me,
I don't know what to do, because she fascinates me.
If she would just say "Hello, Elkin", I'd be happy.
I would give her a rose and take her to the pool.
She's tall and beautiful, and her name is Carolina.
Thanks, Elkin.
Very good.
You're clearly very inspired, but I don't know
if you could take it more seriously, write something else.
- I couldn't think of anything else. - Something more rigorous.
I don't know if Carolina is happy with your declaration.
You only like Yurlady's poems...
Sorry, what did you say? - Nothing.
Say it, I heard you.
You only like Yurlady's poems...
That's not true. I'm just giving you feedback
so you can improve.
You didn't give her feedback.
- Do you want to read? - No.
So how am I supposed to know if they're good?
- Let Yurlady read... - The poet.
The poetess.
Motherfucker.
- What did you say? - You heard me.
- Let's calm down. - She insulted me.
Is it an extracurricular activity, off campus?
Why wasn't I informed?
She has enormous talent. I'm helping her.
It's delicate, you must follow a protocol.
Write a letter stating what type of activity,
what time, where, and signed by the parents.
And there would be no problem.
Now, regarding what happened in class,
I don't think we need to take this matter further.
Talk to them and have them reconcile.
Very well...
I don't want to go anymore.
You don't want to read at the Poetry Festival?
Okay.
Impossible.
She was happy on the TV show.
She doesn't want to. In fact, she never wanted to.
She's the first young poet to read.
Everyone wants to hear her.
The people at the Dutch embassy are happy with her.
Tell her how important this is for her and for her future.
And why don't you go?
Because she's here thanks to you.
Look at everything you've done for that little girl.
She's your masterpiece, your Magnum Opus.
The best poem you've ever written.
Look...
buy her a pretty dress and buy groceries for the family.
That's it!
Oh. Yeah?
- I did it. - You're cheating.
No.
I'm not cheating.
I win.
Bye dad.
Bye.
Poets, like sad warehouses,
have a full assortment of ghosts...
Of ghosts?
The city so big, and me looking for you.
Remember, woman,
to your musical box show
they don't come to admire you, but to be admired.
Don't forget.
Those men are nothing but dealers of defeats.
Monarchs of failure.
And you, their most favorable scenario.
What would I be if I were less black?
If I were less hungry?
If I had a secured future?
If there was peace in my neighborhood?
Perhaps I would walk lightly,
without fear in my soul,
without burning questions,
without a watching world,
without blinding borders.
But I am all that.
And all that has made me strong.
Every shadow, every struggle,
every dream I pursue,
under this sky without promises.
Can I have more chicken, please?
On this one too, please.
Thank you.
Look, two.
Can I take one of those flowers?
I think so.
When we leave, you can take them.
- Cheers, who wants some? - Me.
- Yurlady, no, not you. - Just one glass.
Just one.
Let her have a drink to celebrate.
- And your drink? - I'm not drinking.
- Cheers. - Cheers.
We get paid less.
We don't get work. They've taken our lands.
We've been reduced to bear children and be housewives.
Have your traditions been wiped out?
Have you ever had your butt touched?
Look after your husband and your children.
Is that what women in your community are for?
Instead of reading poetry you should be sweeping your house.
- You call yourself a poet. - With honor.
- Poet! - Here I am, representing my community
Cheers!
- What are you doing here? - Listening to poetry.
Very beautiful. I loved the poem of the black girl.
Meet my new partner, Baldomero Muñoz,
manager of a law firm.
Champagne!
Cheers!
Not everyone has the ability to know what a good poem is
or who is a good poet.
It takes sensitivity to discover poetry in the most unexpected places,
under stones, on a street, in everyday life,
it's harder than writing it.
Poetry's everywhere, even in the most mundane words.
But not everyone sees it.
You have to know how to see in order not to miss it.
I don't mean a beautiful sunset or a rainbow.
No, sir.
It's not like that... - What goes into a black hole
disappears, it sucks everything in.
And I'm not talking about things like throwing things in there.
It sucks up time, absorbs it, unfolds it like a blender.
I've read about it. You know what a wormhole is?
We don't know what lies beyond a black hole.
Could be God, a parallel universe, the past or the future.
Myth is the comfort of the ignorant.
Do you know what you're talking about?
How are the classes going?
Good.
Any new talents?
No.
Any with other attributes.
What?
Ass, tits!
Oh no.
You want some?
Son of a bitch.
She's very drunk.
- You should take her to the hospital. - No, we'll get into trouble.
Should we take her home?
Better wait until she feels better. I'll be right back.
You want to throw up?
Throw up, throw up.
She's heavy.
Can you help me?
Efraín!!
What happened?
Fucking hell.
My God! What happened to her?
Yurlady, can you hear me?
- What happened? - She's drunk.
- They gave her something. - What happened?
We don't know, she was lying there...
Why is this happening to us?
She's alive.
My God.
Let's take her to the hospital.
Edilson is asleep?
- He's not back yet. - And Maicol?
I have my car here.
If you want,
we can take her to the hospital.
What happened to the girl?
- She got drunk. - Got drunk?
- And how old is she? - Fifteen.
Fifteen? So young and you let her drink alcohol?
No, this man brought her home drunk.
- Are you her father? - No, he's her teacher.
I'm the grandmother, and she's the sister.
The teacher? Were you with her?
We were at a poetry festival.
She read her poems and then started drinking.
So I took her home.
Did you give her alcohol?
No, no. She started drinking with her classmates.
Did you know?
She was supposed to be at a school event,
but she didn't show up all night.
Until he dumped her there.
Well...
we were at a table
and one of them brought a bottle.
Did you drink?
Yes, I think.
Sit up.
What else do you remember?
Why do you have injuries on your body?
You have some minor injuries
that usually appear as a result of a blow or a compression.
Did you fall or what happened?
It's maybe because I had to carry her
to the car and then to her house.
We're going to keep her under observation until tomorrow,
because she's very dehydrated.
Only one person can stay with her.
Oscar.
PART THREE - ART WILL SAVE US
Good morning.
Excuse me.
This is Doris Rodríguez, in case you didn't know her,
the school's psychologist.
Hello. Good morning.
Good morning, sir.
Hello, girls.
Hello.
Sorry, we're eating.
How is Yurlady?
Very bad.
Dehydrated. Intoxicated.
Very weak.
Sweating, vomiting. - Well, we're sorry.
The truth is, we weren't aware of this.
This was something the teacher did outside the institution.
And without authorization.
It wasn't a school activity? - Not at all.
How can you allow a teacher to take the girl out of school?
- Well, we... - It's your responsibility as well.
Ma'am, this shouldn't have happened.
We're here to prevent this type of situation from happening,
but you'll understand it's difficult.
And sometimes things get out of our control.
Would it be possible for me to speak with Yurlady
to briefly evaluate her?
We just brought her back from the hospital, she's asleep.
If you'd seen how he brought her and
dumped in front of the house and left.
If it weren't for Karen and I who saw her, he'd have split.
He dumped her? - Yes.
At 2:00 am he dumped her and left.
But you didn't know Oscar had taken her?
I didn't know a thing.
He came very nicely, he brought groceries,
and bought her things, in order to support her
because she was so talented.
They even came from the television to interview her.
But you... why did you let him in?
I work all day long and I can't keep an eye on her.
I told you he came and invited her to read poems at school.
That she didn't like it much,
but that she was ashamed to say no.
This has nothing to do with school.
Let's not lie here.
He was very kind.
And we trusted him because he said he was a school teacher.
But the truth is, she has weird marks on her body,
and one could think, did he do something to her?
She probably got drunk and he brought her.
- How do you know? - Knowing Yurlady...
- But what marks? - Bruises on her back.
Hi Yurlady.
How are you?
Would you like to sit down?
Do you remember anything that happened last night?
Do you think Oscar could have done something to you?
How can you be so sure?
Do you know him well enough?
Has he said things to you
or behaved inappropriately?
Or not?
You must prove to me that he didn't do anything to her.
Because it seems to me that he was seducing her.
Which teacher goes to a student's house,
buys her things,
then gets her drunk, and dumps her there like that?
To what end?
This is very serious,
and as a mother, you have to be suspicious.
Do you know this man?
Can you guarantee that he's not some sort of pervert?
What happened?
I warned you there were rules to follow, didn't I?
How is she?
We can't give you that information.
- But is she OK? - She's disturbed.
She doesn't remember anything that happened.
Can those kids from the poetry school
corroborate that they got drunk with her?
Yes, of course.
Her mother is very angry
with us and with you.
She's talking about taking legal action.
You have to make it very clear that you acted without the consent
and without the knowledge of this institution.
Now we have to remove you from your position as teacher.
No, Mr. William, please. I need the job.
My daughter is starting college and I need to pay tuition.
You should've thought it through
before you did what you did.
- No, listen to me. - You left me alone.
I told you, 'Wait until she feels better.'
And went to ask for a room for her to lie down.
- Wasn't it? - Why didn't you tell me that?
I don't know, but you took her away.
- What else could I've done? - Wait for her to sober up.
Give her water, some broth.
Anything, except what you did.
- You allowed them to drink. - No.
I said they could have a sip of champagne, no more.
You were the one who had to keep an eye on her.
Alonso.
Why don't we talk to the kids
at the poetry school to clarify what happened?
Those kids are very angry with you.
- They say you showed them your ass. - I showed them my ass?
You were arguing with them about black holes or something.
Then you pulled down your pants
and said, "Look at this black hole."
No! Did I?
You created a fucking mess.
Why did you get her out of the hotel like that?
With your reputation?
What happened to my sister?
Calm down, boy.
I need to know what happened to my sister.
Nothing, last night was the opening of our festival.
She read her poems and then started drinking with her friends.
You gave her booze?
She's only fifteen.
No, I told her not to drink.
Why did you dump her outside the house like a fucking corpse?
Doesn't it look bad?
Isn't that suspicious?
And what about the bruises on her body?
No, I just wanted to help her with her poetry.
Is that your help?
- What do you want? - The truth.
That's the truth. What do you want, money?
Help.
- Tell me what you did to her! - Help!
Please help.
Tell me what you did to her, motherfuckers.
You're all going to jail.
Sons of bitches!
You dumped that girl?
- What did you do to her? - Nothing.
You're going to talk to this guy,
negotiate with him, offer him money if necessary.
You brought the girl here and she's your responsibility.
Let's talk to the kids to clear things up.
This has nothing to do with us.
I've been building this place for years
and I'm not going to let you destroy everything.
Oscar! Oscar!
Efraín, let me talk to them.
- Oscar, leave. - I need to talk to them.
You're not going to talk to anyone.
- Rapist. - When will it stop?
- Let's calm down. - We won't calm down.
Misogynist, you showed us your butt.
I don't remember that. - I saw it.
You have a mole on your ass. It's hairy.
I dance, dance for Yurlady, for those who are gone.
I dance for all of us, I dance 'cause you do nothing.
You're killing us. There's violence.
There is violence!
Oscar, please go away.
Let me go!
No, no!
What happened?
William called me.
What happened with that girl?
Not now Yolanda. I don't want to talk.
The girl wants money.
What are you going to tell Daniela?
About what?
Daniela was here taking care of my mom.
- When William called. - Did you tell her?
- She overheard. - Overheard what?
Oh, Oscar.
Women are bad, I know them.
She's very angry and very sad.
Let me explain what happened.
She knows you, knows who you are.
- You won't change. - I've changed.
There's been a misunderstanding.
Who cares? You always end up fucking up.
Daniela doesn't like that her friends see her with you.
She's embarrassed they'll see you drunk or doing something stupid.
- She's my daughter. - So, what?
I want her in my life. And be a part of hers.
You've never been part of her life.
And she doesn't want to talk to you.
Don't make her suffer, leave her alone.
Go on with your life, Oscar, we're fine here.
Go away!
- Daniela. - Leave!
Don't bother me anymore!
I hope you die and I never see you again!
Go away, Oscar, go!
What did you say to Daniela?
But, William...
I think Oscar doesn't do that kind of thing.
I'm not saying Oscar did something to her.
It's Yurlady's family.
Such an asshole.
Some students are even saying Oscar would teach drunk
and would take Yurlady to his house.
That's not true. Who's saying that?
- Some students. - They are lying.
Ask Yurlady, she knows that's not true.
It seems she's also doubting you.
Because the kids from the Poetry House visited her
and told her you showed them your private parts.
Yolanda, I respect you, you know that,
but it was a mistake accepting your brother here,
especially knowing his reputation.
I need to go. Goodbye.
Oscar, what did you do?
I might have the worst reputation,
a drunk, crazy, whatever.
But everything I did was for Yurlady's well being.
I didn't do anything to her and Daniela must know.
You allowed her to drink alcohol
and take part in it without her mother's consent letter.
You're also responsible.
We might've been permissive
with this whole drinking thing,
but you must understand, they're young,
and were celebrating.
However, when Oscar first took Yurlady to the poetry house
we agreed to take her in on the condition that he
would be responsible for her.
You said I had to take her and bring her back, nothing more.
I told you that I agreed to her participating
if you took responsibility for her.
And it was a logical thing for us to assume that Oscar
had the family's and the school's permission.
You told me several times to take her
although I said she didn't want to.
Look, we're forgetting that the most delicate part of the situation
is precisely how you took her out of the hotel.
She was drunk, what could I've done? You saw.
I saw until you took her out of the hotel.
And why did you dump her?
It wasn't right to leave her outside the house.
I accept that it was wrong. I got scared.
Why did you get scared?
You dumped her out of guilt for doing something to her.
- One could think that. - And the bruises on her skin?
Because of the way I had to carry her.
The medical report says "marks on the skin that could have
been caused by a blow or compression."
It doesn't say it was because of the way you carried her.
Look, I carried her like this.
There's no need... What are you doing?
- Let me show you. - Sit down, please.
The truth is you have no witnesses or evidence
to corroborate what you're saying.
Let them file a complaint, I don't care.
What I need is for the truth to come out
Our institution has already taken the disciplinary measure
of removing you from your position.
Now we must assist the student and her family in the process
before the Prosecutor's Office and the Ministry of Education.
We shouldn't even be here
because this is your shitshow.
But we can't get into legal trouble
in the middle of the poetry festival.
The Dutch can withdraw their funding
if this gets out of hand with so many rumors.
This has a very simple solution.
Talk to the family. Tell them what happened.
Apologize.
Convince them to drop the complaint.
Why should I apologize, if I do it's because I did something.
I just need my daughter to know that I didn't do anything.
If you convince them that nothing happened
Yurlady herself could talk to your daughter...
Excuse us...
And she could tell your daughter that, in fact, nothing happened.
No one wants this to go to court.
You would be the most affected.
Let them sue. I don't care.
Why bother with things that aren't worth it?
Oscar,
help us.
Do it for the Poetry House.
You're part of it. Do you want it to end?
Look at those girls from the poetry school
with those hairy armpits, all angry. Such a drag.
Poetry isn't what it used to be.
Poetry used to be more...
I don't think the girl's family wants to talk to Oscar.
- Hello. - Hello.
Is Grandma home?
Granny!
I just can't believe
that all that man wanted was to help her write poems.
Look, gentlemen.
We can't know for sure that he did something to her.
But there is something in Colombian law called
"beyond all reasonable doubt."
What does that mean?
That based on the existing evidence,
there can be "certainty" that he did something to her.
- Do you understand? - Thank you very much.
Ma'am, we understand you...
perfectly.
We understand you're angry.
I would also be angry.
But I can guarantee you one thing.
What we always seek is, through poetry,
to promote the well-being of talents like your daughter.
That's what poetry is to us.
And what happened isn't poetry.
It doesn't represent that wonderful expression
of which your daughter is a worthy representative.
We saw so much talent in her, and that's why
we wanted to support her.
Listen to him.
Let Oscar explain to you what happened.
Oscar.
No. No, I just don't see any truth in his eyes.
Oscar, tell them everything in detail.
Do your part.
Ma'am.
It's the truth.
Yurlady, you know.
She doesn't know.
She doesn't know who you are. She doesn't know you enough.
And you don't know her either.
The truth, ma'am
is that my daughter is very angry with me.
And I need her to know.
What your daughter knows,
Is that you are a pervert.
Because you haven't convinced me otherwise.
- But Ma... - You keep quiet.
You're grounded.
We know Oscar very well and we know he's a walking problem.
He's somewhat stupid, dumb, bad poet.
But as Raúl Gómez Jattin said,
people like Oscar only hurt themselves.
So everything that you imagine
that he could have done to Yurlady never happened.
No, I don't see truth in his eyes.
Oscar is willing to give you some money.
What do you mean?
As compensation for the inconvenience you've experienced.
- You're offering me money? - Don't look at it like that.
We may be very poor, but we have a lot of dignity.
- Wait, how much? - What do you mean 'how much'?
- One million. - One million?
How disrespectful.
It's as if you were asking me to sell my daughter for money.
This is very serious.
No, mom.
Yaneth, let's talk for a moment.
Yaneth, come here!
What are you doing?
Don't know how you'll get the money, but you'll pay me every fucking peso.
Is there an ATM around here?
Yes, sir, right around the corner.
- Yaneth, think about it. - I have nothing to think about.
That man came here to explain that he didn't do anything her.
Don't dwell on it.
We could use the money.
- Go away, Yurlady. - He didn't do anything.
Look, a legal dispute is slow and doesn't solve anything.
Think about what's best for the girl.
She's already suffered a lot. Don't make her suffer more.
Yes, ma, I've already suffered enough.
- That money isn't for you, Edilson. - For us all.
- Half is mine. - No.
But I'm the victim!
Give us two million and we'll close this matter right now.
Impossible. Oscar doesn't have more.
There are some things that need to be taken into consideration.
That's all he's got.
Okay, fine.
But one more thing.
We need a guarantee that you won't take
any action after that.
We sign a document stating that things are resolved.
We think it would be more appropriate to make a video.
- A video? - What?
In which Yurlady accepts full responsibility for what happened
that no one did anything to her,
that she got drunk on her own,
and apologize for all the inconvenience.
- Apologizing? - No, Efraín...
To show it where?
No, not to show it anywhere.
It's a guarantee that protects us against any eventuality.
I don't think that's necessary.
I wrote to my lawyer, and he suggested it.
In that case, we need to raise it a little.
No, impossible. That's what we have.
I, Yurlady Guerrero
accept full responsibility for what happened.
Nobody did anything to me.
Nobody did nothing to me
on the opening night of the Poetry Festival.
Nobody did anything to me
on the opening night of the Poetry Festival.
I got drunk by myself, and I apologize for any inconveniences.
And I wish Poesia Viva and its poetry festival all the best.
Perfect. You remember everything?
Efraín, I don't think this is necessary.
Just give them the money.
How about you appear with her in the video?
Please come closer. Yes.
Yes, kids in the back.
Go on.
Edilson, you too, please.
Yes. Please go ahead.
Get together, close enough to fit in the frame.
Ready?
- Ready. Recording. - No, Alonso, wait.
- What's wrong? - Oscar, why don't you leave?
This is not necessary.
We're trying to fix the mess you caused.
- Or do you see any other way? - Why make them do this?
Every decision you make is worse than the last.
Leave it to me to make things right.
Don't you want to fix the situation with your daughter?
Ready?
Ready.
Recording.
I, Yurlady Guerrero
accept full responsibility for what happened.
Oscar, what are you doing?
- Get out of there. - Give me my phone.
What are you getting at with this?
Give me the phone.
You're not recording any video.
- And the money? - No video, no money.
Give them the money, I'll pay you.
- Where will you find the money? - I'll pay you.
- I can do it. - See? She wants to record it.
This doesn't affect me at all.
I don't care about you.
You're not recording anything.
- Hand over the cell phone. - No.
- Give it back. - No.
- Come on. - No.
Hand it in, we're about to finish.
Give it here.
No.
No!
We're about to finish.
Get out of my house now!
Go, now!
No video, no money.
I don't give a fuck about your money.
Get out, now!
You're the most mediocre poet
I've ever known in my fucking life.
And I hope you go down in history
as the greatest poet of this country
and write many beautiful and successful verses.
I'm sorry.
PART FOUR - A HAPPY POEM
In light of the unfortunate events that have recently taken place
during our poetry festival.
The Cultural Center Poesia Viva
clarifies that we have no relationship whatsoever
with the poet Oscar Restrepo.
Likewise, he will not be invited to any of our future events.
We strongly condemn any inappropriate behavior
that violates the values and principles of Poesia Viva
as a safe space where we strive for the well-being of our community.
A place where resides love, tenderness
and poetry in its profoundest definition.
Assholes.
- I'm going to kill myself. - No, don't start with that.
I can't take it anymore. That's it.
I've failed at everything. I renounce.
I renounce poetry, I renounce life.
I renounce everything.
I'll jump out that window.
Jump, go! Do it.
You don't have the guts to kill yourself.
- You don't understand. - As if I didn't know you, Oscar.
You're the most predictable person in the world.
You're going to get drunk, aren't you?
What have I done to suffer so many misfortunes?
You love playing the victim. It's like you enjoy it.
What you are, is a coward
who lacks the courage to face life.
It's difficult for everyone.
No one is responsible for what's happening to you.
You are responsible for falling into that dark hole,
convinced that you are a sad poet who carries some kind of curse.
Wake up, get out of that hole!
You don't need those people.
They are not your friends.
You may be a drunkie,
but you're noble.
And you have me.
Would you like some hot chocolate?
Thanks, ma!
Hi, Daniela.
You don't know me.
I was a student of your dad.
First of all, I wanted to apologize
for taking your notebook.
I thought it was pretty.
And since mine was almost full, I thought I'd use it.
I'm sorry for that.
That's where I found your address.
Second, I'm writing because I heard that you hate your dad
because you were told that he did something to me.
He didn't do anything to me.
All he wanted was to help me.
He wanted me to be a great poet,
but that dream was his, not mine.
Instead, he made me realize that I don't like poetry,
or at least not poetry as he showed to me.
I just like to write what I feel.
And to draw.
My dreams are simpler.
Having a house, a job,
helping my mom,
my grandma, my siblings.
Things like that.
I don't think it takes much to live well.
Your dad told me about you
The distant relationship that you have.
I understand you.
I have a dad like that too.
And it's not your fault.
It's like we're forced to bear the burden
of having these fathers for the rest of our lives.
The only thing I can assure you
is that he loves you very much
and that he's trying to change.
I really hope he succeeds
and that this letter will help you not hate him.
Well,
that was all.
I wish you all the best in your life.
See you later.
Yurlady.
Hello.
Hi.
Is that your dad's?
- Yes. - Is it?
I like the other one better.
The yellow one, must be somewhere.
Have you read this one?
No?
Let's see.
Read this poem.
He wrote it when I was expecting you.
My beautiful little flower
That I planted in the garden
I want to protect you and love you
But without water and soil
I'm afraid to spoil you
That little flower is you.
Hi.
It's very nice here. Do you come here often?
Sometimes.
They got Bukowski.
I don't like Bukowski.
I don't hate you.
And I don't want you to die.
But I don't want a close relationship between us.
I don't feel it does me any good.
Honestly, I want things to be the way they used to be.
Only talk from time to time
or when I go to visit my grandma.
When it's strictly necessary.
Do you know what I think of you?
You are a good poet.
But I don't care about that.
Just be a good person.
I've really tried.
That's not enough.
What do you want? You want me to love you?
You can't have something you've never fought for.
I'm fighting, it's not easy.
It's not enough.
Seek help.
Prove some real change.
Don't drag me down with you.
Look for me when you truly change.
Alright.
I understand.
I love you very much.
Bye.
Yurlady,
I hope I'm not bothering you with these words.
I promise they'll be the last.
I want to thank you for the letter you wrote to my daughter.
Today, I felt like writing a poem.
I hadn't done that in a long time.
I want to share it with you.
I wanted it to be a poem less sad.
Less melancholic.
Just like yours.
I'm not sure if I succeeded,
but I was surprised that I liked it.
Oscar!
- Call the medics. - What's going on?
- Call the medics. - What's wrong?
The poem I wrote goes like this:
Here I am,
a man,
old-fashioned dinosaur,
bearer of grievances,
deserving of condemnation,
fragile dreamer.
But don't lose faith yet
in this sad poet
for he is trying to write
a happy poem.
A POET