Loose, liquid-like movement, philosophical lines read out after intense heat, and ultimately like a fiery, overheated sun at the head of youth, meaninglessly burning empty objects.
There are sounds here, sounds that are hard to touch, sounds that can easily slip away at any moment, flowing sounds. Restless and light as a feather. The voice of a woman, the metal music that is always absent, the sound of drums. The sense of sprinting, the nonsensical collision, but the next second turned into the back of a cigarette lit by the sunset.
The moment Little Busters played, it sounded like a horn. Those who have experienced it will understand that it is only the restlessness of the beginning of the century, the punk that is separated from the old order and the beginning of the new.
Zhang Yadong said that we thought the world would be better. He's talking about a world spanning 2000 years.
In the end, nothing changed, only what continued to happen.
Lighted cigarette butts, strong sunset, red wings spread. Everywhere is filled with a sense of religion like the end of EVA. I just feel that this place is rich in that era.
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