This man has too many things to deal with, two cute young children, a mentally disturbed wife, a brother who fucks with his wife, a job in the darkest bottom of society, a dying disease, all of these The waves hit him like waves, keeping him awake all night long. But he still wanted to live, because without him, who could take care of the two poor children. But life is fair. He took commissions from the bottom people to buy the cheapest coal stove heating, and finally dozens of people died in the basement. Maybe it's not his fault, it's the injustice of this society, and he has done what he can to do better. Watching black smugglers escape from the crowd while white tourists sit leisurely in open-air cafes is such an ironic image, so abrupt and so coherent, because it's the reality of this world.
It is a beautiful mistake to be beautiful because it is true, but it would be nice if it could be wrong all the time.
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