I was telling this story to a friend once.
It tells a story about a female model who met an old retired judge who was bugging other people's phones all the time. He was betrayed by a woman when he was young, and he no longer believed in people and lived alone. The female model passed by the little judge all day long but always missed
it... Finally, a friend asked.
Finally, there was a storm, an accident happened to the ship, the female model met the little judge, and the old judge watched the news on TV worriedly.
Is this the end? Disappointed friend asked. Friends probably expected a heart-pounding love story, but what they heard was something so boring that it didn't even count as a story, and it was inevitable to be disappointed. At that time I wanted to say something and defend something, but in the end I fell into silence. People are so different from each other, sometimes it's really frustrating.
Life is never a story, not a plot, only fragments, the water is calm, the undercurrent is surging, and only those who have drowned know the danger. Nothing to say.
But every time I think of red, I feel strange. Many things are like a circle, going back and forth back to the starting point. Female models and little judges, as well as many beautiful and clear people, will be hurt and betrayed sooner or later. Will they become as cynical as the old judges because of this? Will he be cheating all day long like a middle-aged man who is being eavesdropped on? Like a middle-aged man's wife pretending nothing happened to keep the surface peace?
I don't know, maybe it will, maybe not.
The song sings that in order to possess, you must first know how to lose and accept. Nothing can be done. Only so.
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