The pace of each episode is so slow and quiet. The stories are told quietly and unhurriedly, but they stop when they are touched. In addition to being moved, they are infinitely long and can be recalled for a long time. And the too-excellent soundtrack is full of emotions, completely rendering this bizarre world, this cold and quiet but warm and melodious world.
Maybe the loneliness and beauty expressed by the story and music is too suitable for my character, how can I not be obsessed with it? It's just that in this infatuation, there is so much self-pity. In this cold and angular, warm but ambiguous world, it seems a little ridiculous. I don't know when I've been a pessimist. I also believe almost exclusively what Nietzsche said: life and the world appear to be justified only as an aesthetic phenomenon. However, this may be more personal. What are the possibilities between people?
If the old and primitive scene of the insect master is placed in reality, it will only give people a feeling of cold disillusionment like "Narayama Festival Kao". Fear of reality is nothing more than that. The world of insects created by Yuuki Urushihara is so peculiar that each insect is like a small metaphor, even a bridge between people. Although this primitive and cold spiritual world is really fascinating.
The solace of imagination is unparalleled. Maybe the solace was just a drug, but so what? And indulge! And I believe that it is not just a drug, it has the most beautiful existence and the most life force in it.
The simple and clear dialogue, with such an excellent soundtrack, is like poetry, expressing human love, reluctance, suffering, helplessness, alienation, estrangement, cowardice, lowliness, greed and its almost essential loss and loneliness. Of course, there is also the warmth brought by Yingu's rescue. There are times when salvation is hopeless.
Although I like every episode, I still choose the episodes that suit me the most. The Light of the Eyelid, the Path by the Pillow, the Bridge of One Night, the Cocoon from the Void Cave, the Thread of the Sky, the Snake of Dawn, and an episode in the Cage, whenever the baby sounded at the end, tears were already streaming down my face.
In the face of such a poetic masterpiece, the words I can write are too limited. I don't even want to unpack the dialogue and find the most touching sentence. All of this has become one. Drawing, speech, and sound merge into such a perfect masterpiece!
As the saying goes: The dust is full of eyes, like a finger. Yes, it is also a blessing for Sansheng to occasionally meet the beauty that blooms in the blink of an eye.
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