The one that impressed me the most was the man who committed suicide by jumping off a building. Suddenly, he jumped down from the upstairs. The psychological descriptions of people who commit suicide before they die are too real.
The angel leaned on his back with heartache, so warm and gentle, but he still jumped like this. Maybe no one can enter his heart, maybe even the angels can't redeem this distance from the world.
The hobbled old man sat alone on the dilapidated sofa in Kusano, the scene inexplicably brought tears to the eyes. He stared calmly ahead, with a sense of belonging that was nowhere to be found in his heart. It is always here, and there is always a sustenance and persistence.
Time will take away everything, take away what you have seen, take away what you have heard, and take away what you have loved...their traces are getting thinner and lighter, and they are gradually disappearing. Eventually you become alone and with nothing, and you start to find no evidence of your existence.
Only by feeling the weight of time can you understand the sadness of being old and being left alone.
Time is a dull and sharp knife, it carves the wrinkles on your face and digs away all your past.
In the cramped, dimly lit little house, the rocker wiggles flirtatically. The chaotic crowd was immersed in the psychedelic music, but only the woman was immersed in her own confusion when her eyes were closed.
Her appearance is covered with the disguise of a smile, and happiness is like a mask that never takes off. But she walks in the empty world with unnoticed thoughts, she longs to listen, she longs for a lover, and she longs for someone who can see through her body and live in her heart.
She wanted to cry but no sound came out, she wanted to cry but no tears came out. She pondered the meaning of it all. But she didn't know that someone in the void had been listening, watching her sleep, watching her eyes looking into the distant sky.
She has always been loved and treated tenderly, but she never knew it.
But she still met him, and she was lucky.
Humans are always so lonely.
The flesh imprisoned our souls in the material world, and built a thick wall of the heart, which isolates everything from the outside and the self from the inside.
People are always thinking about their own things, their own feelings, their own happiness, their own sadness. Always ego, ego, ego. Always unspoken, always alone, always isolated.
Because every soul is an island.
People even forget that there are angels, so they even forget to pray. People are always so vulnerable and never strong enough.
Do people feel lonely because they have ego, or do they feel ego because of loneliness?
But our joys and sorrows, these pains and struggles, these helpless joys and sorrows... Maybe they are just what they envy. Because of all this, our world has color.
Humans are too far from God, so we become ourselves. So everything is given meaning.
Too much id thinking can't reach the distant Garden of Eden, but this is the beauty of human beings.
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