The lonely smoke in the desert, the sunset in the wild sand, the struggle between pros and cons for money, land, and women, the 1968 movie, such as admiring an ancient bridge, is exquisitely crafted, and the plot progresses layer by layer. Henry. Fonda is still young, Jane. Fonda has been born, I am four years old, and the Cultural Revolution is in full swing. In the office of the machine repair factory not far from my home in the mountains, where Liu Shaoqi’s scarecrow stands like a ghost all day long, it constitutes a part of childhood nightmare. In that red age, east and west Different events are happening, stories...
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