— Rudi? I've got to tell you something!
— I know. But let me tell you something: You don't have to be afraid!
— You stand on the beach and taste the salty smell of the wind that comes from the ocean, and inside you feel the warmth of never ending freedom, and on your lips the bitter, tear-soaked kiss of your lover.
— I have never been to the ocean.
— That can't be true! You have never ever been to the ocean?
— Never — ever!
Both of us are knocking on heavens door, drinking tequila — we are biting-the-dust experts — and you have never — ever been to the ocean! -
— Never — ever!
— Don't you know how it is when you arrive in heaven? In heaven that's all they talk about — the ocean — and how wonderful it is. They talk about the sunsets they have seen. They talk about how the sun turned blood-red before it set. And they talk about how they felt
when the sun was loosing its power, — and the cold that was coming from the ocean, while the rest of the fire was still glowing. And you -
You can't talk about it with them, since you have never been there! You will be a fucking outsider up there! And there is nothing we can do about it?
— This must be the bite-the-dust section. Some kind of broom closet.
— Maybe we should have asked?
— Oh sure! "Nurse, we need salt and lemons, because we want to get drunk with Tequila!"
— Is that a brothel or a chorus line?
— Nobody else knows either...
— Trinidad! Tierra del Fuego! Bora-Bora!
— Hawaii!
— Even some places we can't pronounce!
— How much time do I have left?
— Perhaps only days