We went to Venice and Verona together last January. JAMES is a British art historian who studies the history of Italian architecture in the 15th century.
Before the trip, I imagined that in romantic Venice, we should have a romantic journey hand in hand. But in fact, it is exactly like in the movie, everything is so realistic, he sometimes walks in front of me coldly, stops in front of various buildings from time to time, and enters various ancient Italian bookstores, but he never looks at me. He was even reading a book on the train from Venice to Verona. Verona should be a city where two people can roll hand in hand. But we didn't. We went to the Colosseum, to Romeo and Juliet's mansion, but there was no unreal romance like a Hollywood movie, just all the scenes in this legal reproduction. He's at times aloof, but full of mesmerizingly academic chic, handsome, and tall.
Finally, on our way back from Venice to the London airport, I started complaining about him like the heroine in the movie: "You are so indifferent. We never stroll hand in hand in Verona! And you just fall asleep last night, in such a romantic city!"
"Darling. I was tired."
"Tired? Why I wasn't tired?"
This movie seems so realistic to me.
After returning to Cambridge from Venice, he had been looking for a chance for us to watch the film together, but I couldn't find it online at the time.
Today, half a year after we broke up, I moved to the United States, and he was in London, and suddenly had the opportunity to watch this movie, and only then did I understand the deep meaning of what he wanted to watch together. James in the play is him. I really wish I had watched this film with him.
He used to say to me: "No matter what you think. I love you."
I said: "No, you don't. If you love me, you wouldn't be so cold and distant."
He said: "You are always very good at twisting my ideas."
Every woman is the same in front of Englishman.
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