Let me tell you this story. It was just an ordinary afternoon on an ordinary day. The color was golden, like autumn when only tail piles were left after the harvest. The hillside was overgrown with weeds. The wind was not strong, but it was very depressing. The monotonous curves and hillsides remind me of the campus in 1998. It was also autumn. The wild slopes of the back mountain were full of dry thatch. When I was 18 years old, I often walked on those mountain roads, and the north wind was not covered by the sun. Blow on the ground to take away the moisture from my breath. At that time, I was in a happy mood, and I was keen to lie down in a nest in the thatched pile, and take advantage of the slope to bask in the sun. At that time, I had no money and did not think about life. Poor and happy, silly and happy, he will not be troubled by the question of "alive or dead" at all, unlike this middle-aged man who drives around in a car with dark circles under his eyes.
He was very tired, not only with two dark circles under his eyes and a haggard face, but also a dead silence where the sense of sleep and pain disappeared after countless sleepless nights, extreme pain and despair. He is looking for someone to help him collect his body. This ordinary afternoon will be the last afternoon of his life. He has dug a hole under a certain tree on the hillside. At night, he will swallow enough sleeping pills and lie down. Go down, then, don't get up again.
He didn't use any emotion anymore, it was just something he had to do to find someone willing to help before sunset. The footage is also straightforward and rational, almost like a car camera, pure recording, recording his actions, his conversations with the people he was carrying, the reactions of the other party. He kept talking, begging, being denied, being persuaded, and talking, begging, being denied, being persuaded. Among these people, there are workers who owe a lot of debts, migrant workers brothers who pick up scraps and sell money to support their families, recruits who have just joined the army and live a hard life, lonely and responsible guards on holiday construction sites, and those who worry about school fees. Seminary students, old museum staff who have thought about suicide, all of them living in hardships, all short of money, but unanimously refusing to do this favor without any difficulty and only a great deal of benefit. Workers refuse outright, like avoiding a madman, and their disapproval of suicide is rooted in instinct; the scavenger lives in abject poverty, but he is not even the least curious about windfalls. Perhaps the tempering of life has worn him away. The courage to dream; the recruit is still a child, and he only feels fear in the face of those who are going to die, until he flees; the construction site guard guards the bulldozer that cannot be stolen, he does not think about the meaning, so he can do his duty and refuse to skip work; The students of the seminary have their own beliefs. Although they are like monks who grew up in temples, they do not have a deep understanding of this belief. They just blindly believe in it, but they are also persistent and unshakable. But such rudimentary persuasion is obviously ineffective; only the old man in the museum has a certain persuasive force, because he has had similar experiences and because he is old enough. The old man said that when he was going to hang himself on a cherry tree, he tasted the taste of fresh cherries. Then, he cites a Czech joke: a patient who feels pain wherever he touches, in fact, just has a broken finger. This joke fully illustrates why it is better to change the mindset than to change the world. From personal experience, I agree that food has the effect of relieving depression, and I agree that mentality changes everything, so I can understand the only time the man who decided to commit suicide after listening to the old man’s persuasion was shaken: he returned to the museum, anxious Find the old man and repeatedly told him that he must confirm that he is really dead and not fall asleep before he cultivates the soil. As the conversation goes on, you forget about the suicide story and become curious about how people are reacting to it. In theory, there is no difficulty at all - there is a generous reward, no technical threshold, no responsibility, as long as you use a little effort, 12 shovels, a net profit of 200,000 - but no one accepts one. Even the old man who promised to help was extremely reluctant. In this desolate hillside in the suburbs of Tehran, the people living at the bottom are the lowest-level civilians. Everyone needs money, but compared with money, according to the predestined arrangement of fate, living day by day seems to be the criterion they value more. Just like busy ants, for the sake of daily livelihood, do their duty well, be diligent, persevere, don't do what they think, and a little finger of fate can destroy everything for them. There are so many reasons to go to such a life. Despair, to self-destruct, but in them, all the effort is to survive. Cherry is a good taste, a waste plastic bottle, a summer vacation with nothing to do, a bottle of wine to pass the time, and so on. And the man who bought 12 shovels of soil with 200,000 was trying his best and racing against time to arrange the funeral for himself.
Those who work hard for food and clothing live tenaciously, and those who are troubled by spirit die in despair, but can the cherry of the former nourish the soul of the latter? I always felt that this man who showed a strong desire to listen before committing suicide would never choose to die on the spur of the moment. What happened to him? What did you think about again? In any case, he should have come to a conclusion, which is mature and rational, but also incomprehensible and hopeless. If you are alive, you will be able to see the sunrise the next day. If your mentality changes, you will find that this yellow hillside is in the spring, the barnyard grass is green, the cherry trees are full of white flowers, and the soldiers are shouting beautiful bugles. ——It was the only good memory mentioned in the man's conversation. But how to survive? How can I change my mind? When living itself is a drag? The cherry blossoms will bloom again, and the bugle will sound on time every day, but if there is no solution, there is still no solution, and despair is still despair, what is the difference between this long sleep and the long sleep decades later?
Sitting behind the camera, Abbas said without emotion, just discussing, discussing. So the crew showed up on the hillside, and they seemed to have a little bit of finishing touches, and the actor who played the suicidal walked past the camera, and everything was telling you, it's just a movie. What would a real life, a real choice, be like? No one can tell. Like the taste of cherries.
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