In the last scene, we watch Julie mourn. She mourns with some pride when there is talk of her late husband’s compositions, because she knows that they were also hers. But she mourns more deeply for the loss of her daughter Anna. It is one thing to lose a partner in co-creation, one who helped hatch a brain child, quite something else to lose a human being, her daughter, someone who can never be replaced.

We next see the sun rise on a three story building. It is clearly not a hospital, probably a rehabilitation clinic. All of the rooms look the same, with one exception — on the lowest floor, we notice a room with large blue dividers on both sides, probably placed there to give the occupant more privacy. They recall the greenhouse in Dekalog 2, where the doctor was set off from the rest of the inhabitants by the one structure that looked a bit different.

Julie is sitting on a porch, resting in a chair. Her wounds have begun to heal. Her hair looks coiffed this time. For the first time in the film, she is startled and a blue light explodes over her. She hears the symphony, the work she and Patrice had been creating. She appears frightened by the revelation, by the haunting.

We then hear “bonjour” coming from somewhere. Julie blacks out, then recovers and turns her head to the left, repeating bonjour. A middle aged blonde woman is intruding in her recovery space. She says “I know you don’t want to see me” and smiles. Julie responds “you’re right.” She asks to come in and is refused. She promises that it is not for an interview.

But when Julie asks her why she wants to talk, she says she’s doing an article about her husband and just wants to know something — where does the Concert for the Unification of Europe stand? Uh, you know, I went to journalism school, but you don’t need a J-school degree to figure out that a question like that is an interview, so I have no respect for this woman.

Julie says “it doesn’t exist.” Then this awful woman has the nerve to say “you’ve change, you weren’t so rude before.” Excuse me? Her, rude? You’ve invaded her space in a rehabilitation clinic and asked a for publication question when you said you didn’t want an interview.

Julie’s response is: “Haven’t you heard? I was in an accident. I lost my daughter and husband.” As she’s leaving, the horrible woman asks one last question: “is it true you wrote your husband’s music?” I’ve heard Julie in the early scenes described as icy. I actually find her behavior composed and very gracious. At any point in this conversation, a simple “fuck you” would have been completely appropriate.