I suddenly decided to write a movie review even on my mobile phone, so I walked out of the library, found a seat in the flower bed and sat down. I saw the crescent moon in the night sky. There is no clear outline, but more or less halos scattered about, no amount of hard looking or staring can make it clear. At this time, I suddenly realized that I was physically powerless, and the image of my grandmother reappeared in my mind. It's only two-thirds of the way through it now, and I've paused in pain several times. There is nothing to be picky about the actor's acting skills, it is very real and appealing. It is another quiet and real film, but the plot is not flat, but progressive. What kind of person is this? If you have cared about people from your grandmother’s generation, you should understand the slow, methodical, degenerate, settled, and clumsy and helpless of the older generation. “As time goes by, the flowers also wither.” Keeping a neat and even cute dress, she still has a heart to be loved, a heart of a literary girl, so she "very very much wants to attend a lecture on poetry" The outside world is like this: I heard the girl drowned In addition to my grandmother, the people around me are indifferent, even the salesperson with a smiling face every day; the parents of six children talk about how to spend money to solve troubles and cover up the murderer, just like in business; I can't live; my daughter is far away, so I can only contact by phone; besides receiving the minimum living allowance, my grandmother needs to work regularly (to help an old man with a stroke). The poem's class is like this: people of all ages, middle Uncle Nian, a thin middle-aged man who seems to be mistaken for a thief, an elderly mother who has just given birth to a child, an aunt who is a little younger than her grandmother... There are no young people, no youth, but some are the precipitation of time, and then put The candles are lit, the lights are dimmed, the microphone is turned on, and then they go on stage and start doing things they didn't do when they were young or didn't dare to sit: they started reading and writing poems, everyone laughed, and made jokes that middle-aged people understand, Simple, shy, with no interests, no image, everyone opened up to talk about how to write poetry, bursts of laughter. Then, my grandmother suffered from Alzheimer's disease. She wrote that the apricots fell to the ground, let people trample on them, and then went to the next cycle. "My daughter said that I like flowers, and she always said some strange things." She walked to the girl and drowned. On the edge of the river, the wind blew her hat away and landed on the river; she went to the river, sat on the stone, opened the notebook in which she wrote poetry, it rained, and the raindrops wrote everything on the paper for her . Is there any help for this child? rubbish giant baby
This film doesn't need any soundtrack, the sound of the river flowing and the birdsong at the end, only the quiet and attentive listening of poetry is the salvation of restraint
It is worth mentioning that it has been a long time since I found a quiet space for me to write some useless words. When I was sitting on the flower bed, someone I knew suddenly came over and interrupted all my thoughts.
Every day I hear people's voices, conversations, conversations, music, jokes, and fast-paced comedy films. In fact, tonight's film selection standard was "don't be too depressing", but this film was randomly opened. Living like Pavlov's dog, excited only by the vibration of the little red dot on the phone, I feel more and more like a group of modern-day deranged snake spirits, more and more impatient, more and more impetuous, colorful, At this time, I am very grateful to myself for being influenced by z, and I began to watch some quite quiet films. The "Lian Lian Feng Chen" I watched before was also a powerful medicine. It's like giving yourself a sedative.
I must resist all deformities in the outside world, and people must save themselves
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