You look ridiculous in that make-up.
Like the caricature of a whore.
Fake Ophelia drowned in the bathtub.
I wish you could see yourself.
You’d really laugh.
There’s too many fucking flowers in this place. I can’t breathe.
Even if a man lives …
Two hundred fucking years …
He’s never gonna be able to discover a woman’s real nature.
I might be able to comprehend the universe … but … I’ll never discover the truth about you. Never.
I mean who the hell are you?
You cheap, goddamn, fucking, God forsaken whore. I hope you rot in hell.
from: Last Tango in Paris (1972)