That early winter afternoon jumped into my mind without hesitation, like sea glass slapped ashore by the waves.
What is the kingdom of heaven. When I was very young, I used to think to and fro in the nights when I couldn't sleep. I also want to die, and I feel scared when I think about it. Not afraid of dying in the next second, but afraid of leaving before the work at hand is finished. At that time, I felt that when a person died, he probably fell into an endless darkness, where he could see nothing, feel nothing, his happiness and anger disappeared, beauty and ugliness disappeared, there was only darkness, a piece of himself. Darkness that can no longer be perceived. I am afraid of such a death, I am afraid of wandering endlessly in the dark, I am afraid that I will not be able to catch anything in the dark.
I thought of another death. After death, all the memories disappear, and then rush to the next life, starting tomorrow again from the cries of quacks. But I am also afraid of such a death, afraid that the endless life will be too tiring, afraid that in the future, the earth will deteriorate day by day and I will have to constantly watch it over and over again.
I was always afraid, until one day I read a book called "Five People You Met in Heaven". After reading it, I felt that if I could meet the five most important people in my life after I died, and let them accompany me on a short journey, it would seem that death would not seem so scary.
Then, today, I watched "The Next Stop, Kingdom of Heaven".
Heaven may be no different from ordinary days, there are also Monday to Sunday, there are gray-haired old people and dumb teenagers, there are old dilapidated rooms, there are radiators, there are potted plants on the windowsill, there are fallen leaves, there is heavy snow, there are Camcorder, videotape. It's just that everyone is not afraid of death, because they are already dead. You are dead, and I am also dead. We still communicate and work as if we were alive, but each other's faces will never grow old. In this way, it seems that death is eternal, and life is just an inconspicuous grain of sand in the long river of time.
Every week, there are new people reporting. In three days, I look back on my life and pick out the best clip.
Some lives are so beautiful that they don't want to give up every moment, and some lives are so failed that they don't want to remember every moment. Some people are stubborn to ask for a proof that once existed, but what if there is proof, what is eternal in this world, people can die, and the proof will naturally disappear.
The chattering dialogue and the long empty shots are Hirokazu Kore-eda's standard flat and serene story. He seems to just stop and go and tell you a few words, but it seems that you understand some issues that you have never wanted to understand.
I have also been in the memory of other people's happiness. Maybe this is the proof that I existed.
If there is an afterlife, I just want to remember a fragment, a long life, just five minutes. After the separation, misunderstanding, sadness, happiness I can give up, but this scene, can not forget.
It was just cold enough that afternoon, just enough to wrap the exhaled hot air into a pale white mist, which slowly dispersed in the air. At that time, the sun had not yet set, and the remaining afterglow gently covered you and me. Even if you couldn't clearly feel the warmth, under the shallow golden light, my heart was warm. I looked at you a little embarrassedly, my gloved hands froze a little. The content of the conversation has been almost forgotten now, I just remember that you suddenly raised your head naughty and abruptly and breathed into the sky. Those thin mists rose, rolled, scattered, and finally mixed evenly in the air around us. never seen again.
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