On the last day of the weekend, thinking of wasting time with a movie, I went around and found the bizarre travel of the young Speyway. The vast grassland, the meandering train, the warm orange light... I followed the coloring scene and flew together. Who wouldn't want to be gifted, and with unforgettable thoughts, I boarded a truck and went to the distance, along the long railway tracks. The field is about growth, about letting go, about science, about a strange journey of love? 1/ Genius, people love to read stories of genius. The past and stories of every genius are being inquired tirelessly by people. How do these eccentrics who have digital formulas and scale parabolas in their heads walk the road of life? We love that teenage geniuses are out of place in the crowd. The homework demonstrated that the formation of the lake in Montana has a huge relationship with the migration path of the Canadian geese across the continent, and is destined to be out of tune with this group of cute children laughing and laughing around. We love seeing the extraordinary talent of geniuses who don't match their age. Watch him build a perpetual motion machine when he was only ten years old, watch him use a spiral structure to ensure that eggs that fall from tall buildings don't get broken, watch him make a scale model describing the hydrology of a valley... We even love geniuses Pain. Watching the car he looked at his father go away in the twilight, he walked towards the vast track with a heart destined to be exiled. Watching him speak of his dead brother in his highest honor speech, watching him admit to being a runaway 10-year-old while looking at the ever-changing scenery... We adore these amazing kids and list them for them time and time again. The formulas, degrees, and models are convinced. Look at this little boy, brave enough to travel from Australia to Washington alone, but timid enough to stand in front of a fluorescent green phone booth and dare not call his family. Genius is always exalted and deified. Genius belongs to "Heaven", and from the contrast with the powerful brain, we can see the clumsiness, fragility, pain, softness and tenderness that only belong to human beings. Only then can we remember that a genius is a child, a genius is a mother, and a genius is someone who, like us, is disturbed by the troubles of the world. 2/ What do you think about growth? I always feel relieved for the growth of st. Bad things happened, we witnessed, we touched, even if no one mentioned it, some images and smells are always lingering in memory. Growth is destined to learn to let go, in s. During the long journey, watching the sun rise and set, the street lamps of various colors, where will he drift to? His father's car disappeared into the twilight again, and he thought he was destined for exile on the ranch. In the dark night, the green-lit telephone booth collided with the orange street lights above his head. Who would warm the child's fragile and timid longing? At the end of the film, he stood in front of the crowd and talked about the passing of this good brother. I think this is to reach out to the bullet that went through the head, and to reconcile with the wounded heart.... As my mother said, this happened, it happened, it was not anyone's fault, st shed tears, Leaving hand in hand with my mother, taking my father's cowboy hat on my father's sturdy back, at that moment, I think this is relief, something, you watch it melt and dissipate into the air. 3/ About people, lovely people. How many lovely lives have passed through a child's bloody and dangerous journey? I like two clouds, he wipes his boots with his right heel more worn than the left with his oily train hands, and tells the story of the sparrow who wintered in the oak tree as a child... The silver-haired lady who sells hot dogs, the one who hangs on the swing The girls on the bus didn't scream, smiled slightly, and watched our little boy embark on his journey. The man who took two pictures for each friend who arrived at the terminal with the st, how many people's lives have you hurried through? There are still many feelings, the rolling grass waves with the smell of the sun, the old wood smelling house, the broken iron barrel, the lice, the beetles, the cowboy in the heavy rain, the mother like an empty house, the city with a right angle, death Lost poisonous snakes, goats hung with iron wires, black cats dragging tin cans, sunrises and sunsets, the boy by the window who was awakened by the train... scattered in my mind, in my nostrils... Waiting for the sudden appearance of one day 2020.3.1 Ha. t shed tears, left hand in hand with mother, put on father's cowboy hat on father's sturdy back, at that moment, I think this is relief, something, you watch it melt and dissipate in the air. 3/ About people, lovely people. How many lovely lives have passed through a child's bloody and dangerous journey? I like two clouds, he wipes his boots with his right heel more worn than the left with his oily train hands, and tells the story of the sparrow who wintered in the oak tree as a child... The silver-haired lady who sells hot dogs, the one who hangs on the swing The girls on the bus didn't scream, smiled slightly, and watched our little boy embark on his journey. The man who took two pictures for each friend who arrived at the terminal with the st, how many people's lives have you hurried through? There are still many feelings, the rolling grass waves with the smell of the sun, the old wood smelling house, the broken iron barrel, the lice, the beetles, the cowboy in the heavy rain, the mother like an empty house, the city with a right angle, death Lost poisonous snakes, goats hung with iron wires, black cats dragging tin cans, sunrises and sunsets, the boy by the window who was awakened by the train... scattered in my mind, in my nostrils... Waiting for the sudden appearance of one day 2020.3.1 Ha. t shed tears, left hand in hand with mother, put on father's cowboy hat on father's sturdy back, at that moment, I think this is relief, something, you watch it melt and dissipate in the air. 3/ About people, lovely people. How many lovely lives have passed through a child's bloody and dangerous journey? I like two clouds, he wipes his boots with his right heel more worn than the left with his oily train hands, and tells the story of the sparrow who wintered in the oak tree as a child... The silver-haired lady who sells hot dogs, the one who hangs on the swing The girls on the bus didn't scream, smiled slightly, and watched our little boy embark on his journey. The man who took two pictures for each friend who arrived at the terminal with the st, how many people's lives have you hurried through? There are still many feelings, the rolling grass waves with the smell of the sun, the old wood smelling house, the broken iron barrel, the lice, the beetles, the cowboy in the heavy rain, the mother like an empty house, the city with a right angle, death Lost poisonous snakes, goats hung with iron wires, black cats dragging tin cans, sunrises and sunsets, the boy by the window who was awakened by the train... scattered in my mind, in my nostrils... Waiting for the sudden appearance of one day 2020.3.1 Ha.
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