So in the end, the big dream of watching it again has been completed. I don't know why, when I think back to the face of the heroine, I always think of the heroine in the rear wing deserters, and then I think of the black goat in the witch, the blood book, to the strange sound at the end, and then to the york's trembling voice in burn the witch. , and finally go back to the goodbye blue sky in the headset. A series of aimless emptying, but in the end, it fits the whole tone of the film, but the grand narrative is omitted, leaving only the gray and white of the whole film. It is always snowing and the sky is dark and sunless, the car is closed and gloomy, and even the heroine's red unkempt curly hair all come together. The image collection is unified as hopeless. The status quo that cannot be changed, the quagmire of life, has been sinking, and further down, until there is no sunshine in the dream, until the dream collapses.
This is the most autistic movie I've seen in the past six months. That bone dog may be a portrayal of my later life, it must be, if I still have my later years. I always know that life is long and will give me a lot of fault tolerance, and I even know that I will avoid everything again and again until I hit the bottom, and deceiving myself is only a few times. And when I have to look straight into reality, look into my heart, I have no expectations, no dreams, no love. This is reality, stark reality, nothing to grab, nothing. Not duckweed, not even dust. What's even sadder is that I've already acquiesced to this, and I don't even have the motivation to struggle.
I also want to end this, at least for now.
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