When it comes to love, when it disappears, looking back becomes torture. Empty ashes.
She crossed the ocean, betrayed her family, and came to England alone to find his love. Although his indifference was so obvious, the misdeeds were so marked. Although slowly she ran out of money to buy paper for writing, and he hung out with other women and used her money to pay off gambling debts, even though she sneaked into a dinner party disguised as a man to ask for a marriage promise, even though in the end even A kiss becomes a luxury begging.
She is the second daughter of Victor Hugo, a woman who has been generously endowed with beauty, talent, family background, and misfortune. She had an older sister who drowned in her best years, and her happiness was suppressed like a lingering curse. Her lover is a liar in Fengyuechang, and she is a moth to the flames without hesitation. Obedience, complacency, humiliation, abandoning self-esteem, and even using dowry to buy love, using hypnotism to create love... Such a strong and desperate love makes people stay away and shy away. Even if you don't love me, let me love you, okay? However, this love was the wrong object from the beginning. A lover's heart is as hard as steel. She recorded her wounds, talking to herself, even though I looked so young, at some point, it looked like I had reached the end of my life.
She was tortured by despair, anger, pain and grief, and she had nightmares of drowning again and again. She was no longer as beautiful as before, her eyes blank and firm. What she is looking for is not a lover, but love. She asked, have you forgotten those letters, those marriage proposals, you were so passionate about me, yes, as long as you are willing to get married, you can continue to be with those women, for you, I ignore everything, I give up everything , renounce the favor of my parents, and betray the man who loves me. Just because I love you. Is this difficult to understand?
And the man said that if you love someone, you give him freedom. You go home.
She cried and said yes, but before we break up forever, please say you love me again? kiss me okay?
She is such a proud woman. Like a mother beast obsessively guarding her dead cub. She made up the news of marriage, refused help from others, invaded his life like shadows, broke his marriage contract, even though she was penniless and sick. Her face was marred by writing and pain, and her mind was consumed by loneliness. Her hair was messy, her clothes were disheveled, her skirt was torn by a dog, and she limped past the bookstore owner who adored her. Unable to see the news of her mother's death, she bought a ticket for her lover's army garrison with the travel expenses to go home. She walked aimlessly, with a child walking on her skirt behind her, and fainted alone on the streets of Barbados, North Africa.
In order to remove the stumbling block in her career, her lover appeared in front of her and called her name. And she doesn't remember him anymore. Can't recognize his face, can't remember his name.
In the end, she was sent back to France, where she spent thirty years in a nursing home. When her father died, the whole country mourned, and when she died, no one cared about her.
Going back in time, she wrote in her diary before she set off for England; "It was incredible. A young girl who traveled alone across the ocean, from her home to a whole new world, just to be with her lover I can do it." The
more passionate and talented a woman is, the more vulnerable and stubborn she is. The more you cherish love, the more you are hurt by love. The more you defend the purity of your ideals, the more you have to suffer from reality.
However, who would dare to endure such a feeling of burning muscles in his hands, and who could endure it? Who can bear, who can respond? Adele, if no one deserves your love, why don't you love yourself. Violent and resolute to the point of burning all the jade, pouring all his enthusiasm on the cemetery that will not bloom no matter how watered it is. And smiling and proud.
So she is Adele. A beautiful but unknown name that interprets our dead and rotten ideals.
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