-Often?
-At least once a week.
-And you like that?
-Oh, yes.
-Where do you meet?
-In the confessional.
-Do you ever see him outside...?
-You want to talk about the baby?
-Would you like to?
-I never saw a baby. They made it up.
-Why should they?
-I don't know.
-Do you remember the night?
-No, I was sick.
-How?
-Something I ate.
-Did it hurt?
-Yes.
Where?
Down there.
-What did you do?
-I went to my room.
-What happened there?
-I got sicker.
-And then what?
-I fell asleep.
-In the middle of all the pain?
-Yes.
-Where did the baby come from?
-What baby?
-The one they made up.
-Their heads.
-That's where they say?
-No, the wastebasket.
-Where was it from before?
-From God.
-After God, before the wastebasket.
-I don't understand.
-How are babies born?
-Don't you know?
Yes, I do, but I want you to...
I don't understand! You want to talk
about the baby, everybody does.
But...
...I never saw the baby,
so I can't talk about it...
...because I don't believe in it.
-Let's talk about something else.
-I'm tired of talking.
Nobody believes me when I tell them.
Nobody listens to me.
I don't want to answer questions.
Would you like to ask them?
-What do you mean?
-You ask and I'll answer.
Anything?
Anything.
What's your real name?
-Martha Louise Livingston.
-Married?
-No.
-Would you like to be?
-Not at the moment.
-Do you have children?
-Would you like some?
-I can't have them.
Why not?
I've stopped menstruating.
Why do you smoke?
-Does it bother you?
-No questions.
Smoking is an obsession with me.
Maybe I'll become obsessed with
something else and I'll stop smoking.
-Do you have any more questions?
-One.
-What?
-Where do you think babies come from?
From their mothers and fathers,
of course.
Before that, I don't know.
I think they come when an angel...
...lights on their mother's chest
and whispers to her.
That makes a good baby start to grow.
Bad babies come when a fallen angel
squeezes in down there...
...and they grow, and grow...
...until they come out down there.
I don't know where good babies
come out.
And you can't tell the difference.
Except bad babies cry a lot.
And they make their fathers go away.
And their mothers get very ill.
Die sometimes.
Mommy wasn't very happy
when she died.
I think she went to hell,
because every time I see her...
...she looks like she
stepped out of a hot shower.
And I'm never sure if it's her...
...or the lady who tells me things.
They fight over me all the time.
The lady...
...I saw when I was 10.
I was lying on the grass,
looking at the sun.
The sun became a cloud...
...and the cloud became...
...the lady.
And she told me she would talk to me.
Then her feet began to bleed.
And I saw there were holes
in her hand and in her side.
And I tried to catch the blood
as it fell from the sky...
...but I couldn't see
because my eyes hurt...
...because there were black spots
in front of them.
And she tells me things. Like...
...right now she's crying,
"Marie! Marie!"
But I don't know what that means.
She uses me to sing.
It's as if she's throwing a hook...
...and it catches under my ribs
and tries to pull me up.
But I can't move.
Mommy's holding my feet.
All I can do is sing in her voice!
It's the lady's voice!
God loves you!
God loves you!
God loves you.
-Do you know a Marie?
-No.
Do you?
Why should I?
I don't know.
Well, what do you think?
Totally bananas
or slightly off-center?
Or maybe perfectly sane
and just a very good liar.
What's your opinion?
-I believe Agnes is different.
-From other nuns? I've noticed.
From other people.
I believe that she's not crazy
nor lying.
How could she have a baby
and know nothing of sex or birth?
She's an innocent. She's a slate that
hasn't been touched except by God.
Ridiculous.
Not in her case.
She's had little school.
Her mother kept her home.
When she died, Agnes came to us.
She's never been out there.
She's never