Baldabiou: I once knew a man who built his own railroad. It was completely straight. Not one curve in it. He had a reason for that. I don't remember what it was. Reasons get forgotten.
Hélène Joncour: What is it?
Hervé Joncour: It's your garden.
Hélène Joncour: It's my garden?
Hervé Joncour: Well, not quite. Not yet. For now, it's a plot of land. Our land. And the house is also ours. This is where we'll grow old Helene.
Hélène Joncour: But I don't understand...
Hervé Joncour: The eggs have hatched, they're perfect. This year's production will be huge, and Baldabiou has already paid us our share. We're rich, Helene. We're very very rich!
Hélène Joncour: [Awestruck] And this for such tiny eggs...
Hervé Joncour: Steaming water. Strange trees. Laughing children. Her skin... those eyes. But why should I tell you about it? Why now? Maybe I just need to tell someone about it. And that someone is you.