They are driving on the highway. Watching the goldfish in the water bag on the roof of the car forgotten by a father. Slow down and stop, the inertia will cause the bag to fall to the ground. The old man said, what to say about it. She said, "This is your last time, isn't it? I want you to know that you are loved. I love you." The goldfish patrolled in the water, with its golden scales shining, silent without answering anything. Then, the bag slipped off. The kid, they, I, all cried.
She said that the west side of Tyrone Street was the end point, and that was her parking spot. He said that my car was parked on the east side of Tyrone Street. She said we still had one street away, and he said Bingdi Street was the midpoint. She said, that is the connection point, let us know that there will be a point of separation. He said that we are still on the good road and will not hate each other. She said, I won't hate you at all. She pointed to the street sign on Bingdi Street. We have been doing well for the past six months. He said that it was the past twenty years, and she said that maybe what is left is the journey to the end of life. Then they walked the whole street in the sun and said goodbye at the intersection of Tyrone Street.
She said her ankle was too low. Shoes always hurt your feet. He said that we think pain is a fact of life. But the fact of life is better than that.
She put it on gently at night. Two shoes, soft and beautiful dancing shoes, she wrote "ME" and "YOU" on one.
Escape, chase, approach, dodge.
Finally together.
Warm and soft, gently touching the viewer's eyes, lips, stomach, arms, and soul. It's such a movie.
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