Only the word lonely is worthy of this film. When a flame fell from the sky. I know it's my dear Boer here. When Baoer walked from the top of the mountain to the side of the first stream in his life, he drank the first glass of sweet water. At that time, the lens froze for a long time on his pale and handsome face and slender fingers. Behind him was the jewel-like noon sun and water. He sold the ring his wife gave him in the store. In a close-up shot, I finally clearly saw his golden and silver eyes, which were as beautiful as a Persian cat or a demon. He was dizzy and nosebleed due to his inability to adapt to the weightlessness and overweight caused by the elevator. When the waitress picked him up and put him on the bed. I know this woman will be obsessed with him and follow him. He watched so many TVs at the same time, like a genius child. He is so special that the waitress can't escape his inadvertent charm. He built a wooden house by the lake. The quiet lake allowed him to see his past in a tsunami-like form, his home on that arid, waterless, dusty alien planet, his wife, and two children. This is not the first time. He always staggered back to the past intermittently, wandering on the edge of memory and reality. He lives with his lover in the lakeside villa. When his vulgar lover became more and more vulgar and hysterical, he was still so faint, like a beautiful elf who couldn't eat fireworks. I know he never loved her. He had already become a rich man by then, because he had a technology that the people on earth had never mastered. He was still like a child, sitting in a special seat enthusiastically, manipulating the remote control stick, constantly changing channels, and watching so many TVs and different programs at the same time. I don't know how many years have passed, and his house has become a barren sand, and the wind in the wilderness whizzes past his dilapidated wooden house. His lover couldn't bear to get along with him and left. The corners of the woman's eyes and temples had left marks that could not be erased. The vicissitudes of life have changed, but he can't rewrite his face. He is still that handsome young man. On that alien planet, his wife and children couldn't expect him, struggling in the dust outside the house, and dying. And there is nothing he can do. Or it doesn't matter anymore. In the last shot, he wore a hat and a pair of sunglasses, sitting in front of an old friend and talking to himself. He held up a glass of wine and lowered his head, the brim of his hat covering his face. I know that it will be the most beautiful and lonely face in the world. Whether he goes back or not, whether he can go back or not, he can't make himself live better, I know. He has his wife in his hometown, has their two children, has a peaceful life, far away Hustle, he will not be deceived, used or isolated by others, and will not be used for experiments by those called scientists. But there was nothing but the endless white dust. On the earth, there is the water he likes most to drink, the scenery he can't see enough, there are so many people playing with him, and there is room for him to display his talents. But he couldn't go back and relive the warmth of the family. He could only recall the faces of his wife and children on this planet. He escaped from one kind of loneliness, but fell into another kind of loneliness. He can't be completely happy in any way. The two contradictory languages of absent-mindedness and melancholy were written on his face at the same time. It is a terrible and helpless thing for a person to watch the people and things around him gradually get old, but oneself is always young, always facing a new world, and can never stay in place. His only stay can only be memories. Memories that can't be held in the hands like a movie. Some people say that having memories is a kind of happiness. But here, his memories are just a sorrow of masturbation. All that is left to him is a deeper loneliness.
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