Eight years ago, when I was still in school, the warmest thing I felt was eating the food made by my parents. What my mother does is delicious, what my father does is delicious, and I always feel that the taste of cooking is wrong. When eating, always comment.
Later, I graduated, went to work, fell in love, and lost love. Got the courage, fell in love again, got married. After I have a home, I realize that it is the warmest thing to be able to eat when I get home. No matter who cooks it, it's delicious.
I remembered an article I wrote 8 years ago, which seems to be very compatible with this film, so I used it as the name of the film review
:
What is warmth?
Is it a cup of hot tea? Is it a delicious meal? Live in a big house? Or, have a lot of money?
I feel that sometimes, what we need is not a life of abundance. Instead, a faint smile, a gentle look, and a pair of gentle palms.
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