In the ocean, the houses have become isolated islands, and the islands are in danger of being submerged every day. The pigeons that were originally flying in the sky turned into fish and were taken away by seagulls, or they were caught by the grandfather who lived in a small house like a lighthouse and turned into dinner. The picture is a little blurry, as if the lens that was covered in water vapor has not been wiped dry, those slightly shaking lines are like a pile of wool, dry but warm, although the story gives me a deep sense of loneliness.
In only 12 minutes, when the memories came to the fore with the opening of the iron gates, the sense of loneliness began to reach the center step by step.
I used to wander the streets in the night when thousands of houses were lit, and there was no home to go back to. Those yellow and orange lights overflowing from the window seemed so cruel to me. The real loneliness is that you know that there is such a place to shelter You, help you, warm you, but you can't get there. It's like the house that is getting smaller and smaller surrounded by the ocean. It's like the old grandfather guarding the wall of photos but slowly forgetting the people and things in it. .
When he slowly dived into the bottom of the water and dived into the iron gates one after another, the dust of the memory was opened, and those once warm and beautiful things came back to his eyes little by little. The picture of memory is warm yellow, and The reality is icy blue. Several times, the grandfather stretched out his hand in the illusory, and finally found that the world turned out to be only himself, only himself.
The last two glasses of red wine, will the grandpa feel particularly lonely at this time? When he thinks of the wonderful life in the past, will he feel that this smaller and smaller room is becoming more and more empty? I suddenly remembered Mayday's "Smoke", and I hate this feeling of loneliness.
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