Based on the story by Jindřiška Smetanová
OUR DEAR MISTER FOERSTER DIED
HE DIED
All the things I've missed in my life, and probably won't ever be able to do...
But I'm glad I'm still alive.
I'm hot and I feel like I've never experienced it before.
This afternoon reminds me of something.
But what?
It was nice yesterday...
It's a nice day today, isn't it?
These'll dry fast for me.
It's beautiful.
What does it remind me of?
The kind of day you'd see in a painting.
Do you know who Renoir was?
He was a French painter who painted such warm, sunny afternoons.
He was crippled.
He suffered from rheumatism, and painted the warmth he so badly needed.
- Tights never last. - They pushed him around in a wheelchair.
They tied the paintbrush to his fingers so he could paint.
He painted pretty girls and sunny trees.
Holes everywhere.
He lived in a wheelchair for 20 years.
His drive for life was put into his paintings.
He was dying for 20 years, but his pictures were full of life.
- These tights will be the death of me. - I read a book about him.
He had a housekeeper. She was young and beautiful.
He often painted her in the nude. Her name was Gabriela.
If I knew how to paint, I'd paint you.
Oh please...
I'd paint you as you hang the laundry. And singing at the same time.
I learnt everything from pictures. I've never been there in my life.
France... I'd like to have a peek there some day.
I've been telling kids about it for 40 years.
It never occurred to me till just now to go have a peek.
I actually have seen very little in my life.
I learnt everything from pictures.
France...
I should see it before I die.
It'll probably be a bit like here,
and a bit different.
Marseille,
Avignon,
Aix-en-Provence.
Cézanne lived there, you know.
And the small towns, villages, ports.
And vineyards everywhere.
A vineyard on every hilltop.
I'd like to walk through all of them.
To see more of it.
I'm going to learn French and go have a peek there.
I'd go and talk with people. With people that understand you.
People are the same like here.
They just grow more grapes there.
And the sun is a bit hotter than here.
What happened?
Mr. Foerster died.
How do you know?
They announced it on the radio.
He was 92 years old.
We'll never live to be that old.
Poor guy. Dying when it's so nice out.
But he composed a lot of classical music, but I'm not a fan of it.
It's just for educated people and not for a normal woman like me.
I'm not educated enough for it. I like happier pieces.
Music should cheer people up and not be so serious.
Just the same, people only listen to it to look smart.
I turn the radio off when I hear such howling.
So, you see...
Southern France...
I'm going to learn French and go have a peek there.