Cathy is just like the housewives in Desperate Housewives. She is diligent and thrifty. For the sake of ordinary life, she has wiped out her passion and desire. Life is like boiled water, and she feels no pity when she suddenly died. Lymphoma, time is short, I decided to live once, and the story began.
When I saw Cathy turn on the radio, sprinkle red wine on the sofa, and then close her eyes and start dancing, I envy her a little; I see Cathy roaming freely in the pool every time the show starts, the gorgeous and trivial reflections reflected by the water waves The sun was shining, and time should have stood still at that moment; when I saw Cathy spread her legs and twist her body to seduce the painter, it was hard to imagine her heartbeat. . . She bought the sports car of the school girl in high school, she saved the lobster in the hotel, she pretended to be her handsome cancer doctor's girlfriend to look at the house, and she refused to join the cancer mutual aid society.
Cathy finally lived the crazy life she always wanted to live, and I stubbornly felt that what finally greeted her was emptiness. Maybe there is no fear of death, maybe calmness or perfection, but those dreams that have been realized on the surface are vanity and nothingness, and have no substantial meaning. What if you do them? . . The end of life, even if it is a gorgeous tango, can only end with regrets. Peacefully walking through the fullness of life should be the best way I imagined to face death - the problem of Capricornus. . .
As the saying goes, we are all Cathy, we all have cancer. And how to do it and why to do it, the smooth brain of most people will not ask this question and will not answer it. So go with the flow, be the denominator, no one remembers your name when you die (you would say remember your name is the best bird), the journey of life is like running a program with no results. At least Cathy was dancing, and the dance made me grapple with the question I'd never been able to figure out, what life is for.
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