The title is an imitation game. I don’t know why it was chosen. I just feel that no matter how the brilliant personal creation of life promotes or affects the course of history, it seems to be just a game. He stood tremblingly in front of his lover, slowly turned off the light, and staggered into the dark. Whatever the aftertaste, there is only heartache.
We often fight every time we shout, family, work, circle of friends, what we are fighting for is the little piece of cake in front of us, and what we are shouting is the grievance that we have suffered. No one is like him, not being understood but being hurt, but always maintaining the enthusiasm, kindness, justice and infatuation. Such changes have benefited mankind, and giving back to him is truly desperate.
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