She's in her room, she's lying on her bed, she starts to cry... The Iscalat movie Hurley ends with this like the end of April has failed, spring has disappeared and summer has yet to come. The subject matter of drug trafficking in Mexico is as commonplace as everyday life, and direct presentation would not be met with bland criticism of the film's emptiness or interpretation of the overall structure of the work as a bit of performance art of hanging corpses on flyovers and burning dicks. Everyone knows about drug trafficking in Mexico, but I am afraid not everyone can answer why the drug trafficking in Mexico has been banned for so long. Hurley not only has this life, he also has a previous life. As a foreigner, he and her wife are very similar to Junsheng and Zijuan in Lu Xun's "Death of Sadness". Everyone yearns for free love, but what about after love? Hurley's happy life is like a new life between the two points of the home and the factory. The silent starry sky gliding along the undulating potholes by the bicycle track can't be stained with the slightest sound, even if the census taker knocks on the door. sound. As someone who has escaped from home, I don't know how Hurley would feel if he heard the conversation between his sister and her boyfriend planning the future. The ideal young man in "In the Restaurant" once said: "When I was a teenager, I saw a bee or a fly parked in one place, and when it was frightened, it flew away immediately, but after flying in a small circle, it came back again. When I stopped at the same spot, I thought it was ridiculous and pitiful. But now I flew back myself, but in a small circle. And I didn't expect you to come back. Can't you fly further?" A reality of life, what kind of a circle of nothingness, makes Hurley torment between you don't rape your life or you're raped by your life. Do you think you can live your own life? Do you think you can just destroy the carbine? Do you think it's enough to shut down your skipping sister? Do you think it's enough to see the police come home? Do you think it's okay not to sign? Do you think it's enough to give up the security and call the police? Do you think it's enough to kill a rapist who raped his sister? I seem to hear Izcalate's cry: "Heli, Heli! Who can be happy living in Mexico?" The wind in April is like a ruffled curtain, and a little thing falling on the ground can startle countless people in our hearts. Ripples, sturdy cops and bandits actually sing my sorrows: She's in her room and I'm in her room She's in her bed and I'm in her bed and she starts to cry
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