candy
Finally one person finished it. The spinning movie, the spinning me, the sun wheel spinning twice at the beginning and the end. The only downside is that the plot after Candy fills the room with those poems seems redundant.
I just realized that for a movie of love, I don't want to watch it any more, and I don't want it to let the faded and numb perception cover the impression of the first encounter because of all the suspense I already knew. After reading it, I immediately peeled a candy for myself to eat. Melting is like the helpless blood pouring into the mother after a miscarriage. At the end I chewed it, rattling between my teeth, and turned into the unpleasant grit of a meal. Lying in bed that night, you said you wanted to watch that movie with me the most. It was about a painter and a poet, starring the old clown. You seem to have forgotten to tell me the name of the movie that day. That night, I was burned by the porridge in the Liangpi shop, and I was talking about the movie I would go to the private theater to watch next week, but I didn't remember this movie. Even the words in your words are still in my ears. Last day in the mall, you look at the laser-colored ceiling, stand still, and say it's like the beginning of that candy that movie. At the time I didn't know what you meant by candy. Later, I remembered the movie you said on the phone that you wanted to watch with me, and I went to find out about Heathley's movies, carefully selected the plot like what you said from the introduction, and then found this movie by climbing up the stairs.
At the end of the film, I fell on my own bed. After the waves, my visual experience would become confusing, just like the way you took me home at night. Newborns see the world as colorful and focused at first glance. The room was towering, and the roof was carrying cicada-like fragments of light and shadow, which rushed towards me in an instant. You who are hunting pounce on me. At this moment, the sky is vast, and the windows, together with everything outside the windows, have collapsed into estranged design drawings. What hovered in the distance was not a starlight, but a patrolling light on the roof. This is not a static fragment of time, the falling wind resounds all over me, and I fall into the sea of my slumber.
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