The film full of love, the helpless love between Barry's wife and Barry (the artist's other half is difficult to do, it is best that both are artists), the widow's mother's selfish affection for the widow (the old witch is indeed a bit too much), Barry and the child Our friendship (and later family).
Why do so many seemingly simple stories make you cry? Because there is a real love story behind the story, which is the secret to the immortality of countless works of art.
I'm still reluctant to think that Barry was in love with the widow, and that this beautiful story has nothing to do with extramarital affairs. Telling a story too beautifully makes one instinctively protect the story from the mundane, like big fish, like perfume, like finding Neverland.
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