Ghosts of Yesterday and Riddles About Eternity

Ignatius 2022-04-20 09:02:22

2021/5/22 1:39 How to use film to write poetry? Write poetry with film. 1. This film is dedicated to all those who choose to exile themselves, those who remember the past forever today, and those who are out of tune with the world; 2. The flow of human consciousness, one day is in eternity, and eternity is in one day; 3 .The me of yesterday is the ghost that follows today. At the end of the film, the identity of the stranger who plays the same classical music on the floor opposite the poet is not revealed. I think this is a metaphor for his self-projection; 4. On the bus late at night, the dying poet and the wandering child watch An Zhe Sheng's four-act play: left wing, love, music, poetry. 5. In the future, I want to see the ruins of Greece with my own eyes. "Why do we have to stink, hovering between pain and desire? Why have I been adrift all my life? Mom, why don't we know how to love?" "Stay with me! Your boat is two hours away, and I Only tonight. Stay with me." "I'm so scared." "Me too. Stay with me. Stay." "Tell me, how long will tomorrow last?" "One more day than forever." Bought by the poet of four words: late night. Korfra. I. exile.

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Extended Reading
  • Hans 2022-03-17 09:01:08

    Long shot ocean poetry life is eternal

  • Cade 2022-03-28 09:01:11

    20120606hm master's poetry is always unpretentious. You will be deeply impressed by his soothing narrative rhythm and poetic lens language. The director is using the camera to write poetry, full of poetic metaphors and interpretations. The use of long lenses is extremely elegant, and many lenses are worthy of repeated appreciation. Past and present, fantasy and reality are entangled, sadness is eternal, happiness is only one day. "How long is tomorrow? Forever or a day." 4.5. 3000th

Eternity and a Day quotes

  • Alexandre: My only regret, Anna - but is it only one? - is to not have finished anything. I left all as a draft, shattered words here and there.

  • Alexandre: All passed by so quickly. This suspect pain... my stubbornness to want to learn,to want to know... then the darkness... the silence around me... the silence. All made me believe that before the end of winter with the ethereal silhouettes of the boats,and their sudden breakthroughs in the sky, with the lovers along the promenade,in the declining sun, and the hypocritical promise of the spring, all made me believe that before the end of winter... My only regret, Anna... but is it only one?... is not to have finished anything. I left it all as a draft, shattered words here and there.