At night, I stumbled into a classroom where a video was being played, and I stayed. This is just an accident, but the time and space of a narrative entered by chance changed my view of some people and things, changed my life feeling and my imagination of a better life.
I can't remember some details of the story, but what I remember will never be forgotten. The film tells the stories of three pairs of lesbians who took place in the United States in the 1960s, 1970s and the turn of the century. The first story is about an old "couple". The "husband" is still like a naughty child, climbing the wooden ladder to listen to the birdsong in the bird's nest among the tree branches. The "wife" prepares dinner in the kitchen, occasionally lovingly , looked a little resentfully at the "husband" on the wooden ladder outside the window. Suddenly, the bird flapped its wings and flew out of the bird's nest, startling the "husband"... In the hospital, the "wife" was calm on the surface, but her heart was already in a trance, her eyes were at a loss, and her hands could only comfort each other. She told the doctor that she would wait through the night and be sure to notify her if "he" woke up. But she finally failed to see "him" for the last time. "He" did wake up, and she was at the door, but the doctor ignored her. Because when she took "him" to the hospital and the doctor asked her who she was with the patient, she hesitated for a moment, and then could only say that it was her friend although she stressed that it was her best friend. She left the hospital, and in that desperate morning without tears, she had no home to go back to. Their love nest, the house where their warm pictures are hung on the walls, the house where there are many small gifts they gave each other in the closet, the house where she would neatly stack "his" pajamas on the bed every night The house where they have been together for a lifetime and have too many good memories in common... Now, it was legally snatched away by "his" nephew. Her life was taken away.
The second story happened to a young girl ten years later. My memory is so thin that it is far from the first story. I can even recall a sad look in the heroine's eyes. I only remember that the tone of the second story is obviously much more relaxed, and it is not because the protagonist is young that the picture looks smart. They are no longer repressed, but dare to disclose their gay identity, they have organized their own clubs, and have a party bar. They fell in love, hugged and kissed indulgently, and they just let it go.
The third story makes me feel joyous. Not only are a pair of lesbians officially married, but they're busy having a baby. They finally found the sperm they were happy with, and the wives actually conceived, and they embraced ecstasy, like any young couple who gets good news. They kiss and caress, kink and roll on the bed, immersed in erotic bliss. They will also accompany them to the gate of the kindergarten to see the children after school, which will arouse their endless imagination about their own children in the near future. What is even more surprising is that the mothers who go to the kindergarten to pick up their children will greet them very warmly and give them the most sincere blessings.
The name of this film was known only after checking: "If Walls Could Talk 2". Why is there such a name? Because the three stories take place in the same house. Thinking about this arrangement is meaningful, and the name is wonderful. The wall knows their happiness and sweetness, as well as their helplessness and pain. The wall has witnessed nearly half a century of changes, from yesterday to today, both long and short. If a wall could talk, it must have a lot to say. Although the wall finally could not speak, but I had such a chance to hear, just a few, but enough to make those who heard it to ponder the truth of life. This is an ancient mystery, there may be no answer, there may be endless answers, and the meaning lies in the meditation itself.
The beginning of life is not in our own hands, certainly not in the hands of parents, not anyone, not even God, the body is a natural accidental creation. We are both the majority and the minority in a sense, and we are all weak in essence. We should understand and care for each other, we should not be prisoners of demarcation, and we should not carve unnecessary scars on individual desires.
Looking at myself seven years ago, I am a narrator, but hardly a commentator. But the text still bears witness to my shock back then, and today it's just normal. Vibration to normal is fine.
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