on December 21st is a war-torn London. I hummed softly with Vera, "Once a native maiden and a stranger met...", while washing the dishes. After I finished washing, I chatted a few words with others, and watched it again, it was a passionate sex scene. Who is talking about love? we are talking about lonely. Cat said. When the morning was waking over the war He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died, The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide, He dropped where he loved on the burst pavement stone. (Dylan) wrote in the poem where he loved or lived? ...loved or lived?... a hundred year old man, where does he remember what love, it must be lived, cat said. When Vera and William were doing their first dance, the air raid came, and the hall suddenly turned from heaven to hell on earth. Who doesn't need some consolation in a hell like this? comfort from others. So Vera said, make love to me.... Later, when William went to the battlefield, when Vera gave birth to a child, the movie kept switching between the delivery room and the battlefield. William was holding a comrade in arms while the others sawed off the boy's wounded arm. And Vera screamed in the delivery room. I almost screamed too...
Dylan is just a poet, seemingly a deserter. He nearly pissed his pants when William approached him and nearly shot him in the head with a machine gun. See, that's why I hate poets. Later, he had the guts to perjury in court, trying to keep William in a cell forever, so that he could have Vera alone. Own Vera, as a 15-year-old girl, not as Vera herself. The film, however, is a biography of Dylan. He can write beautiful poems, coax beautiful girls, mess around in despicable ways, wet his pants because of the fright of war, and frame a soldier for the memory of his young love.
It's all about live.
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