Everything is like a dream. The girl in the dream is talking to herself and entertaining herself.
Death is only what she said. Illusion.
Under the hostage of her youth and ignorance, what she still doesn't understand is her father's lost dreams and thoughts on a coast. She hides in her own fantasy world and remains happy...
Is she escaping, or her childlike innocence does not know everything ? The play... Maybe, only she herself understands.
Dolls, self, grass, broken houses, dead trees, abandoned cars, women with black veils, human bodies that have been made into specimens...
Once, I said to myself, if I could, I would like to make my memories into butterflies Something like a specimen, and then treasure it. But now, looking at that woman's collection of her beloved, I feel horrified and even disgusted. It turned out that there are some things that could not be preserved in the original, why let all the hypocrisy exist in the illusion intact, just like the processed corpse, in addition to making me nauseous, they make me more painful and unacceptable from the heart. . Some things belong to weathering and annihilation.
I like that piece of wasteland, that piece of golden wasteland, the freedom between heaven and earth, endless indulgence.
On the coast of high tide, what is surging is a messy life and an unbearable life.
A dead man or woman, perhaps, is putting an end to a sin. Such abuse of life is a sin. Living without air, without order, without common sense, is a sin among sins.
Looking at their devil-like lives, perhaps, what they need to reflect on is more or even more sinful self.
The simple absurdity may be implying the real complex reality, which cannot be carried.
Not being able to withstand that complete chaos is because I don't want to witness such chaos and absurdity, so ending it quickly is my own salvation.
Favorite name, High Tide Coast... When you
fall in love with a name, watch a movie. that's it.
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