EXT. BASE CAMP AT THE CAVE OF SWIMMERS. 1939. DAY
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The Expedition Team is packing up the Base Camp. Madox and Almásy are walking together toward the plateau where FOUAD, AL AUF, and others work at the cars. MADOX: It's ghastly, it's like a witch hunt--anybody remotely foreign is suddenly a spy, so watch out. |
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ALMÁSY: Right.
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MADOX: We
didn't care about countries. Did we? Brits, Arabs, Hungarians, Germans.
None of that mattered, did it? It was something finer than that.
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ALMÁSY: Yes. It was. MADOX: I'll leave the plane in Kufra Oasis. So if you need it...hard to know how long one's talking about. We might all be back in a month or two. |
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Madox kneels and takes A HANDFUL OF SAND, puts it into his pocket. He throws his haversack into the plane then turns. Almásy puts out a hand. This is a moment of great emotional weight for them both, conducted as if nothing were happening. MADOX: I have to teach myself not to read too much into everything. Comes of too long having to read so much into hardly anything at all. |
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ALMÁSY: Goodbye,
my friend.
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They shake hands. MADOX (in Arabic): May God make safety your companion. |
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ALMÁSY (a tradition): There is no God. But I hope someone looks after you. |
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Madox clambers up the hill, then remembers something, jabs at his throat. MADOX: In case you're still wondering--this is called the suprasternal notch. Almásy nods.
MADOX: Come
and visit us in Dorset. When all this nonsense is over.
(then shrugs, thick with feeling) You'll never come to Dorset.
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Almásy watches Madox
leave.
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