The loquat tree next to me is full of clusters of small fruit. I watched them from flowering to fruiting, from winter to spring, but I don't know if I can spend another summer with them. Not far from the loquat, is a dwarf peach tree with weak buds and budd flowers at the top of the branches. Such a peach tree will not bear fruit, the flowers are just an embellishment of the sky and the earth, just a moment of blooming. It's just that this peach tree is really brave, with a deadly void in his heart, still indulgent.
The sun slowly sinks, and the temperature around here is still strong. I am reluctant to enter the house for fear of missing the beautiful scenery and being intoxicated by the spring breeze. This glorious time has left everything behind. I feel that there will never be a better world than this. The situation at this moment is like the photos that appeared at the end of "Better World", leaves, running water, bamboo forests, mountains, cobwebs, the most beautiful and simple things in nature. It's sad and moving. It seemed to be a gentle answer to the many heavy questions in this world, a little bit relieved, and a little bit helpless.
The most memorable part is the middle section. He was slapped a few times by a middle-aged man who was the same age as himself, but he didn't fight back. After returning home, he jumped into the lake, under the gloomy sky, stroking his beaten face. The next day, he took the children to find the man again and asked him why he did that. He said to the man: I am not afraid of you. The man slapped him again, but he still didn't fight back...Looking at this paragraph, there are actually mixed feelings, I don't know whether to sympathize with him or respect him. And he is not cowardly, but treats the world with an attitude of forgiving everything. This is a conceptual experiment conducted by the director with art, put it into the real world, and I don't know how to crush it. Therefore, the fighting and revenge behavior of the children there is the face of the world, the weak and the strong. As a result, two clues that occurred in the same time and space constitute opposition and doubt. Feelings become complicated. The director dissected the problem with a little bit of detail that permeated his bones for the viewer to see, but carefully tried to answer the question he set with a warm ending. It was too easy and too trivial. But it's anyone's turn, you won't be able to answer this question satisfactorily. Because this world is incomplete. Few female directors can have such a broad vision. They no longer just make a fuss from their own faint heart, but look at the devastated land and make an effort to resist. So calm and full of warmth, the best foreign language film at the Oscar is considered appropriate.
Not all severely injured people can recover, not everyone who wants to die can be saved, just as God is just an illusory comfort, as if suffering continues all the time. Therefore, those attempts to resist desolation with one's own power are heroic and immortal. Just like the forbearing doctor in the movie, with a meager face, to meet the rough palms. I also know that no one can turn the tide, but if you can, don't stand by. Otherwise, how could the world become better...
I will end class at night and send away the last child, a new girl. When I was going to cook, she and grandma came back and asked me to sign all the homework books. Her parents worked night shifts and couldn't take care of her. I can feel her happiness when I leave and say goodbye to the teacher. I sent them out of the door, and then out the door. I saw the little girl's father in the afternoon and saw his broken right hand. I know how hard life is. Both the adult world and the child's world are incomplete. I can only do my best, with a little bit of my own strength, to make up for even the slight incompleteness. I know the pain of incompleteness.
Walking alone at night, the land overlooked by the stars and moon. With the support of nicotine, the body has a little psychedelic power. Every disappointment makes me stronger. I know that there is no beautiful spring light that never disappears, and I also know that there is no dark night that I can't pass. So I told myself to remember those brave flowers, with the emptiness of death, and still bloom indulgently.
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