La leggenda del pianista sull'oceano1998

Max:
[on deck of ship] It happened every time. Someone would look up, and see her. It's difficult to understand. There'd be more than a thousand of us on that ship, traveling rich folks, immigrants, and strange people, and us; yet there was always *one*, one guy alone, who would see her first. Maybe he was just sitting there eating, or walking on the deck, maybe he was just fixing his pants. He'd look up for a second, a quick glance out to sea, and he'd *see* her. Then he'd just stand there, rooted to the spot, his heart racing. And every time, *every* *damn* *time* I swear, he'd turn to us, towards the ship, towards everybody, and *scream*.

Passenger:
[pointing] America!

Crowd:
[everyone turns to see the Statue of Liberty, and break out in cheers]