| TILL MARRIAGE DO US PART |
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| Paris, April 20, 1920 |
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| After this sad day, I will write no more
on your pages. |
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| My Journal
faithful companion of my labors. |
00:02:02.580 - 00:02:05.797 |
| Today he is dead in the cemetery of Père Lachaise |
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| my last hope to find my true love. |
00:02:09.360 - 00:02:13.450 |
| From the window of my Parisian room, |
00:02:14.260 - 00:02:16.793 |
| ... I see the tower from which
I will take the big leap, |
00:02:17.180 - 00:02:19.329 |
| ... forever closing that brief
earthly chapter called life. |
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| My painful story began twelve years ago
in my beautiful Sicily. |
00:02:25.340 - 00:02:30.873 |
| Come, come! |
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| Please don't cry!
This is a wedding, not a funeral. |
00:02:35.580 - 00:02:39.109 |
| Sit! |
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| As you can see, the father,
despite having been invited, has not shown signs of life. |
00:02:41.900 - 00:02:45.833 |
| - Maybe he's dead.
- He's not dead ... |
00:02:45.980 - 00:02:47.372 |
| ... because his debts still accumilate.
And in a big way! |
00:02:47.780 - 00:02:50.694 |
| No more bets!
No more bets are allowed. |
00:02:51.145 - 00:02:52.745 |
| - I'm good.
- Me too. |
00:02:53.196 - 00:02:55.596 |
| - No more bets!
- A Letter to the Marquis. |
00:02:56.947 - 00:02:59.847 |
| - Where does it come from?
- In Sicily. - Throw it to the basket. |
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| And I sent telegrams to all
the sites that he usually ... |
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