The film recommended by a friend, she said, can only be understood by those with childlike innocence.
Actually, I'm not in a good mood today. A friend on the forum left the long-running website due to depression and entrusted it to me. Seeing her ID disappear from the moderator's position is particularly uncomfortable.
Coincidentally, I saw Sylvia's words at this time: You are so important to us that it really doesn't matter anymore.
believe it, just believe it.
At that time, while buffering the movie, I listened to the background music on her blog. It was an English song that I couldn't understand, but it had a quiet prelude that I liked. The spring sunshine slowly streamed in from the south window, and a thin shadow splashed from the gray-white gauze curtain. Together with the sadness, it washed the plain old shirt on the body. Tears fell from the left eye, one, one.
Mrs. Snow, who loved her gray hair, told James about her dead husband with a childlike joy of innocence and an attachment filtered out of sadness. "You know he was actually a child until the end." She watched his favorite drama instead of him, she continued his happiness in this world, she obeyed him and became a child for life, and I believe she will do the same to the end.
Mrs. Snow also said: "No one can keep up with the time."
There are several impressive scenes: one is George holding the broken arm and yelling at the grandmother not to treat me as a child, you can't use it The excuse of concern ignores the presence of my mother, who should see James now if she wants to; one is Sylvia propping her sick body down the stairs, holding hands with James as she watches a play in the living room, until she walks in. The fantasy world that the beloved had built for her never came out; one is at the end of the film when Peter asked James in tears how he could see his mother, James told him to just believe, and Peter whispered that I saw her.
But I think that these are just right, and it is also something that time may not catch up.
Such as the growth of children, such as the fantasy of adults, such as the eternal sleep of love.
I may not remember such an afternoon after many years, but will you help me realize the fantasy before I forget it.
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