A frustrated war correspondent, unable to find the war he's been asked to cover, takes the risky path of co-opting the I.D. of a dead arms dealer acquaintance.

The Girl: Isn't it funny how things happen? All the shapes we make. Wouldn't it be terrible to be blind?
David Locke: I know a man who was blind. When he was nearly 40 years old, he had an operation and regained his sight.
The Girl: How was it like?
David Locke: At first he was elated... really high. Faces... colors... landscapes. But then everything began to change. The world was much poorer than he imagined. No one had ever told him how much dirt there was. How much ugliness. He noticed ugliness everywhere. When he was blind... he used to cross the street alone with a stick. After he regained his sight... he became afraid. He began to live in darkness. He never left his room. After three years he killed himself.
The Girl: Who are you?
David Locke: I used to be someone else, but I traded him in. Uh, what about you?
The Girl: Well, I'm in Barcelona. I'm talking with someone who is somebody else.
The Girl: People disappear every day.
David Locke: Every time they leave the room.
David Locke: My name is Robertson. I've been waiting for someone who hasn't arrived.
Man With Cane: Ninos. I've seen so many of them grow up. Other people look at the children and they all imagine a new world. But me, when I watch them, I just see the same old tragedy begin all over again.
David Locke: Now I think I'm going to be a waiter in Gibraltar.
The Girl: Too obvious.
David Locke: Maybe a novelist in Cairo.
The Girl: Too romantic.
David Locke: How about a gunrunner?
The Girl: Too unlikely.
David Locke: As a matter of fact, I think I *am* one.
The Girl: Then it depends on which side you're on.
David Locke: Yes.
Witch Doctor: Your question are much more revealing about yourself than my answer would be about me.
David Locke: What can you see now?
The Girl: [looking out the window] A man scratching his shoulder, a kid throwing stones, and dust. It's very dusty here.
David Locke: [from Locke's recorder] We translate every situation, every experience into the same old codes. We just condition ourselves.
Robertson, the Dead Man: [from Locke's recorder] We're creatures of habits.
David Locke: I've run out of everything - my wife... the house... an adopted child... a successful job... everything except a few bad habits I could not get rid of.
David Locke: Excuse me. I was trying to remember something.
The Girl: Is it important?
David Locke: No.
David Locke: What the fuck are you doing here with me?

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