The dolls on the shelf move around when I'm not in the house, open the closet where I keep their clothes, change clothes, sit on the chairs I've added for them, drink tea and chat, and they may also secretly look at what I make for them. The little book, laughing at me, only wrote one word per page. But these activities would come to an abrupt end the moment I entered the house, and everything would return to its original position in an instant. This idea should be received in "The Little Princess", in which Sarah's love for her baby Amy made her have such a fantasy.
The book I'm reading actually has a world going on in it while I'm reading it. And I, too, might be a character in a book someone else is reading. This is a meal one day when I was a child, and I was thinking about the problem while watching the comic strip of the gourd baby. Later, the comics became "Grimm's Fairy Tales" and "Andersen's Fairy Tales", and this fantasy has always stayed in my mind.
This is all a fantasy of my childhood. When I watched "Arietty, the Little Man Who Borrowed Things", it was like a lamp that was suddenly turned on, emitting light in the depths of my memory. When I watched the little man drink water from those delicate little teapots and cups, I recalled the small phenomenon of "water tension" I observed when pouring tea for the dolls, and I couldn't help smiling.
There must be a lot of associations that this cartoon can trigger. For me, it is to remind me that those fantasies, although they rarely come up again, are actually quietly moving under a certain floor and ceiling, waiting for me to remember them again someday. Get up, turn it over and savor it again. I haven't forgotten them, I just don't remember them sometimes.
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