Running, letting the limbs constantly control the wild, dancing and spinning, seeing the boundless destination, even if there is no tomorrow's dawn, we must use the rushing blood to end this despair.
"If you love someone, tell him: 'The sky is white'. If that person is me, I'll answer: 'But the clouds are black'. That way we know we love each other." Sadly, Alek How much he loves Michelle. Michelle turned around and lay down again: I'm sorry, I haven't woken up from my wine. I'm going to sleep again.
Hopeless sentimentality, like the last bullet left in the barrel of the gun, is the murder weapon that I dare not look directly at. Is it a prop to end a lover or a bargaining chip to end one's own life. I am afraid. But I'm going to keep reading.
Hans hated the happiness that belonged to the past, only the cold wind, only hunger and waiting. In the dim candlelight, he took Michel, who was about to lose his sight, to see the portrait, this woman like a wife and a wife. Before dawn, the dream is like a flickering candlelight before it burns out and sees the end: Hans who fell into the river Never go back to the sun again. Leaving this world is so easy, living is a trajectory towards death.
If love could be manifested, she must be like the flame blown by Alex. There was no breathing gap in the turbulent turmoil. She was secretly drugged like the spirits that deceived others, and she always woke up to find her body covered in bruises. This is almost the ultimate emotion, it may not be the love they keep talking about, and cracking down on fakes is an insult to it. In order to keep his love by his side, he did not hesitate to burn all the posters on the subway platform, and even killed others by mistake. The funny thing is that the radio he gave her betrayed the truth that he was about to be buried alive. "Alex, think about it, those are my eyes!" There was a vacancy on his face that was only there when he couldn't find her: but you are not even my life, you are my everything...
Ah Lex. Alex, why, with tears streaming down his face. It hurts me. The bullet has finally done its job, and if that's destiny, I thank it. Although no life may be a shortcut to happiness.
three years. Michelle is back with beautiful eyes. She said: The person you see in your dream should go to him when you wake up. Is this her love? to whom? It was an unbalanced scale, but Alex turned a blind eye, and he began to run hard again, the words written on the new bridge that made him hear a heartbreaking voice, like a wound on his left hand, "no one can teach you to forget" . Michelle's "once every three years, just tonight" joke was prickly sweet, but he laughed so fondly. The portrait was finally completed in the snow, Xinqiao was still not lonely, there were so many people and lights crowded...
Michelle still had to leave, still saying "I'm tired". Alex hugged her and finally jumped off the Seine over the Pont Neuf. Only time gave us a chance to catch our breath, and a sander with oars sailed past. The camera freezes on an ordinary photo: a couple embracing each other. She and he, still dripping with water, leaned against the cabin and smiled at each other: let's go to the Atlantic and let Paris rot, since we still can't escape this hysterical entanglement.
Still running, galloping on the sand boat. The strange story finally has a strange romantic ending. Take back my tears and inadvertently fall into your poetic despair, Karax.
Que_reste_til_de_nos_amours. Been listening to it all night. I don't know what he's singing, but the words jumped on his lips, and the embers of love were as light as one could imagine, and they dissipated as soon as the wind blew...
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