Life, in fact, many people are just a life, a kind of existence, just like Mrs. Kruger teaching piano in prison, just like Jenny waking up from sleep, nothing about the boyfriend who abandoned the crime and the bastard adoptive father who slept with him. This kind of life is not the opposite of death but exists as a part of death.
And living is the last four minutes. Jenny uses her favorite music and her unfettered way to vent her heavy past. Schumann has already retired here. Art is the art of self. It is also Mrs. Kruger, her eighty-year life journey no longer stops with the girl who once fell in love who has already crossed heaven. Jenny, who had made it clear that he would never "curtsey", looked at her, bent down deeply, and showed a sincere smile for the second time.
I used to ask myself, why do you want to live if you don't live.
In fact, without those boring lives, how can one find the blooming "life".
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