The icy moon, the mist of nothingness.
The ruthless spiritual desert of human beings is hidden under the prosperous elegance that is very close to the whitewash.
The first love in bed is the communication of the body, but what about the soul?
Under the endless noise, the communication of the soul seems so difficult, and no one listens to every word of Kavasano.
"I am a philosopher, poet, writer..."
who cares?
What everyone wants to see is your clown-like sex show, the savage seven-night-a-night coachman that people find a match for the sensitive soul of the well-read.
You are victorious, but it is a fiasco of spiritual civilization.
In that era when philosophy, art, and literature all disappeared, you could only live as a low-level animal.
Frustrated, you pour out your heart to your lover, expecting a loving response.
What you get is an unexplained farewell.
This moment of physical pleasure is never a loner's game.
Vulgar people laugh when only you mistake a client-prostitute deal for love.
A hysterical pleasure of the flesh, isn't it another kind of death?
Besides, are you not enjoying yourself in it?
You are so shameful, but also so lonely.
Desire is like a curse that the mortal body will eventually decay.
When the old Casanova made a faint voice again in the noisy banquet, the tragic and tragic world's last idealist warrior.
After the banquet was over, the tired old man hugged the puppet and danced in the moonlight, murmuring love words that no one would listen to. Can this soulless and fleshless body withstand the ideals and expectations of a person's life?
"Goodbye, do you love me?"
"I love you."
The bright nun with a peculiar smile appeared at the beginning of the film, a one-night love, but she was the only woman who said "I love you" in the end.
Casanova's life, in the end, was nothing more than navigating alone in the black sea of tar-like plastic.
Where is the sailing destination?
Hometown, hometown that will never go back.
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