In the bachelor flat, they lie on the bed and talk. They are far away in their daydreams, constructing the scenario of a life they could have had or could have had if they had gone away together and rented all the bachelor flats on their way. They would look for a place, a home for themselves. They would expect the bachelor pad. They would also meet each other outside the bachelor pad. They would avoid places where they could be together, even if no one knew them. After a while in the same place, they would also go out to a few places where people would know them together. They would go to places where it’s a party.
In Montreal, in their late teens, Mara and Hubert met and became infatuated. They run the streets, the cafés, the exhibitions, share Kundera’s novels and Kusturica’s films, exchange lines from Romeo and Juliet, live without moderation. They are like two fingers in the hand, friends, lovers, brother and sister of the forty-eighth parallel North. They dream of a railroad to rush towards each other. Then everything rushes forward: death, art, the future, to the point where love gets entangled and derails. In the suspended circus of impossible loves, Mara and Hubert love each other, but they don’t know it enough.
From Beirut to Prague, from Noranda to Peribonka, there are granaries, skating rinks, letters, accidents, wilderness, confessions and exile. Bodies like continents.
Imaginary trains and a bachelor flat.
