At that time, the setting sun was shining brightly from the front. There were not many cars on the road, all of them driving slowly. There were middle-aged men running for fitness on the street, parents pushing strollers for a walk, and some jumping around together. When I turned into the community, they would wave at me and smile. In the distance, under the eaves in front of the house, the daughter playing at the door was jumping and shouting at me happily. I couldn't hear her voice, but I knew she was calling me.
At that moment, I suddenly felt that all this quietness and beauty was quickly leaving me - I mean, they are all my joy and love, but at the same time I realized that I have a little person in me, not for anyone Knowing, and not being understood by anyone.
Later I wrote that piece "The Glass House".
When watching "MARY AND MAX", I think about the little guy in the glass house all the time. I think everyone has such a clumsy and stubborn little guy in their hearts, they look at the outside world and find it interesting and strange, but they don't want to go in and lose themselves. Behind a certain poem of mine under the banyan tree, someone left a message saying, "This world sees me as a little monster, and I see this world as a big monster."
In fact, this little monster is just the skin that was not hard when we were first born. A scab that never heals when injured is like an undercooked egg, and in reality, even the weakest wind will make it shudder slightly.
Many people say that this film is related to loneliness and a wounded childhood. In fact, in my opinion, it is more about the unreasonable innocence when we were born - we refused to give up this first belonging to us because of our refusal to grow up. Our selves are more or less weird in the eyes of others. Most people learn quickly and get comfortable in a jungle-like society, including me. Few people persist longer and longer, so they are considered "more barriers" in medicine - such as MARY, such as MAX, such as Gu Cheng, who I used to read over and over again, and such as mine who always wears socks Wrong friend Huang Xiaoxie.
I wrote all of these into that "The Hidden Mark", and now it seems that the small essay written in January 2006 is very appropriate for this movie. MARY and MAX represent nothing but the stubborn birthmark on our body that will not fade away. They can easily find each other in the dark because they are unchanged, and they are also out of tune with this world because they are unchanged.
I think we all have times like this: we hate ourselves and want to be another person. This kind of inferiority is actually just because we are insisting, and we are shy because of persistence. I think, if one day we forget such shyness and inferiority, we will let the creator sigh deeply.
The hidden and huge flaws in us are only because we have a bigger and more hidden beauty within us.
There are so many anachronistic and funny details in the movie, even the most romantic details (such as the tears Mary sent to MAX), each of which is enough to make us smile, or feel sad. But I watched the movie without moving, without any expression on the corner of my mouth. Because I'm old enough to keep quiet with ease.
In the movie, MAX said in a letter to MARY: "Although the corners of my mouth are not raised, my mind is smiling." And finally, when the subtitles at the end of the film came up, the only sentence I thought was: "Although I didn't cry, but there are many tears in my heart."
Attached:
"Hidden Marks Handwritten" In January 2006, I
have always felt that birthmarks are a mysterious thing, and they always appear in places that outsiders cannot see - the body The secret place of the skin, but it can't be erased, and you are born with you until you die.
In my opinion, it is definitely a code, a code destined somewhere. For God, everyone has a secret mark that signifies that you are born to belong to a certain group. It is secret and unknowing, you don’t know I know—sometimes I don’t even know it myself, and I just live in such a ignorant way. Suddenly, he realized that he belonged to such a secret group. We are scattered on the planet, and like every ordinary person, only we understand those unique marks - just like a civet cat that turned into a human shape after a war, we live like ordinary strangers, go to work and get off work, and are used to using Tricks hide themselves. It's only on a full moon night, when we hear the crackling of the bonfires and the old singing in the distance, that we get back to what we really are.
I don't know what format such an imprint is in - maybe it doesn't have a set formula. It could be a way of sighing, a walking posture, or even, a clumsiness. For example, a friend of mine always forgets to wear another sock, so one foot is blue and the other is flesh-colored. In the eyes of outsiders, it is a kind of laziness or stupidity, but in the eyes of the same kind, it is a unique mark, like the breath of wild antelope.
As for myself, seriously, I don't know. I like to eat nuts, and I like to pour them into a few bottle caps and eat them slowly, but this is not my mark, it is another voice that wakes me up - your voice. I'm not talking about the kind of sound you make out of your mouth, but something else, it doesn't go through the eardrums, it goes straight through my flesh and bones, into my heart, like a whistling train zipping past me. At that time, I couldn't hold any other sound in my ears.
In the past, I always wondered why people could meet people. After all, the possibility is one in 6.5 billion. As I get older, I don’t believe in luck anymore. Otherwise, I bought so many lottery tickets in the past. Never hit it? Those unfamiliar numbers, I don't feel them, and so do most people in this world.
Today is a festival, which is not a good topic, but I really want to sit down and think for a while, the sunset outside the window is slowly shining on the roof and wall on the opposite side, this time is really good, really quiet . Anyway, this afternoon, I figured out a few things. In some cases, I mean, the few, the few that look exactly like the majority, but the ones that are completely different in their bones that people can meet, not by luck, or fate, or whatever, they can meet , is completely a matter of course, because they are of the same kind in their bones, and can easily smell the breath of the same kind from most of them, that's all. Just like two deaf-mute people, they refuse any external expressions, and only need one look to transmit all information without any form of language.
Even if one of them is a bird and the other a whale.
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