Ricardo Morales: The worst part is I'm starting to forget. I have to constantly make myself remember her. Every day. The day she was killed, Liliana made me tea with lemon. I'd been coughing all night and she said it would help. I remember those stupid things. Can you see? Then I start having doubts and I don't remember if it was lemon or honey in the tea. And I don't know if it's a memory or a memory of a memory I'm left with.
Irene Menéndez Hastings: My whole life I've looked forward. "Backwards" is out of my jurisdiction. I declare myself incompetent.
Benjamín Esposito: You see? I don't want to miss another chance. How is it possible? How can I do nothing about it? I've been asking myself for 25 years and I've only been able to come up with one answer. "Forget it, it was another lifetime. It's over, don't ask." It wasn't another lifetime. It was this one. It is this one. Now I want to understand. How can someone live an empty life? How do you live a life full of nothing?
- [first words, handwritten, from English subtitles ]
Benjamín Esposito: He ran to the end of the train and watched as her figure, once gigantic, now shrank in his eyes, but grew more than ever in his heart.
Benjamín Esposito: [voiceover]
On June 21st, 1974, Ricardo Morales had breakfast with Liliana Coloto for the last time. For the rest of his life he'd remember every single detail of that morning. Planning their first vacation... Drinking tea with lemon for his nagging cough... with his usual lump and a half of sugar. The fresh berry jam he'd never taste again. The flowers printed on her nightgown... and especially, her smile. That smile like the sunrise... blending in with the sunlight on her left cheek...