Lovers or something like it.

What she is talking about: "The dead remains of illusions, the solitary walks, all the deserts of our dual solitude, the promises of circumstances, depravity, drought, the insolent barrier of numbers, paragraphs, the excess of indecisions, secret tyrannies, the attraction of death, all the underground attacks, wars and insurrections; the appeal, the fascination of the infinite, the fear of death, the Royal, the beach, the sand, the beach's splendid curves, the life that unfolds without us and which will abandon us there, in the shadow of childish hopes, bottom-of-the-range tragedies, voiceless cries, starless skies, purposeless torments; toads, shrews and seals, chance, the bookshop, the windmill, pesdestrian crossings, debauchery, the temptation to scatter, the anxieties, the bitten nails, the burning sensations in the stomach, and the sensation of not being able to do anything about them; the dizziness, the distance, the silence, the fear of losing onself, of never seeing each other again, the brazilian taxi in the kerb, the harshness and the insults, the lessening, the delight of sleep--the delight of death."
-Florian Zeller