The red land in the south has spoiled too many squire ladies. Once upon a time, you held a small umbrella, dressed up and rode in a car, lingering in the dance and singing of the manor’s home ball. You let the exquisite dance skirts spread on the bench, chatting and laughing with so many boys, but your green eyes have never left the faint blonde hair of Wilkes’s teenagers, and you yearn for the fantasy of love, music and poetry. It seems that they can be eternal under the spring light, and they will never be smashed by the sound of artillery.
Waiting on the ridge for his father to return on horseback, the housework is well organized for his mother. The day is lazy and long, and the setting sun lingers among the clouds in the western sky, rendering a huge rainbow. How did you know at that time that the road ahead was already in the smoke of gunpowder?
With the passage of time and the vicissitudes of the night, there will always be war to break the excessive comfort of slave owners, and a new world of change will always be led by troubled times. Ashley you are obsessed with married Melanie, the squires who talked about war on paper went to war, bombs, wounded people, dead corpses on the road that no one cares about, the army searched everything they could search. You are oppressed, but there is always a stubborn energy in your heart, and you don't want to be crushed just like this.
You refuse to abandon Melanie and her weak child, go back to the Tara Farm through the mountain of war and the blood and rain, only to find that the former neighbor is in ruins. Tara is still dying, but his mother died of illness and his father rode a horse. The hurdle fell to death, and the life and death of those you love and those who love you are in the battlefield. There is no lover's shoulder for you to cry, only the women and children waiting to be fed and the scorched earth stepped on by iron hoofs. So, you did not cry. On the red earth, the setting sun is like blood, and you hold on to the earth as if you are holding on to your life, swearing to the sky that you will never go hungry again. Under the scorching sun, you led your sister's servants to cultivate cotton fields, ran around, and planned for business. A kind of power supported your unregrettable persistence, and finally got rid of poverty.
Maybe at the end of the book, you watched the love between you and Rhett pass by. The past passed by the wind, but your heart is immortal. Kneeling on the stairs with tears, you know that Rhett is right, your hopes can last forever with the red earth, and tomorrow will be a new day, so don't think about it, take your own way step by step.
Inside and outside the book, paper and ink are separated, but tears burst into my eyes. I would like to live like you, despite the vicissitudes of struggle, always have the courage to face life, and never change the hope of tomorrow. The passion for life, just like your name, burns like a scarlet flame!
View more about Gone with the Wind reviews
