But when the last shot of the film appeared, there was a slight smile on the left corner of the mouth, and the water finally overflowed, overflowing smoothly. Fortunately, the calm was not broken. Looking through the mood after reading the novel, I was surprised to find that the memory was again deviated, or the stubbornness and paranoia at the time prevented me from recording it faithfully. It was too harsh, I thought I would see words that should be sensational even if they weren't flattering, but I didn't expect it to be full of reluctance and reluctance to admit something. A few months later, when those reluctant people can be as expressionless as telling other people's stories, all that is left is the long-lasting emotion brought by the novel. As for the movie, it is more like a timely reminder, reminding me how much I like it. This is a thin but heavy book.
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