Came back from Rome, revisited Rome Holiday on the way there, and watched Letters to Juliet on the way back. Italy, Italy, you are so romantic.
Most people's lives are ordinary, they talk about marriage according to the rules, do the right things with the right ones, and meet people who may not be so right but don't look bad at the right time. There are a few people who are lucky enough to receive a letter 50 years later, and a few people can still remember this feeling of their youth after 50 years. After the children died prematurely, the wife passed away, and after living a life of discipline and discipline, I still would like to dig three feet in the ground and travel all over Tuscany to knock on countless doors.
But with this luck, the person you loved when you were young gave each of your children and grandchildren the same name, stubbornly guarded your vineyard, and ran from a distance on a white horse, just like a teenager. With a wrinkled but still strong hand on your cheek, I say La mie bella Claire, my most beautiful Claire, how are you?
It's as if a good friend of mine told me the other day that the most romantic thing I've ever experienced was that one day I got a letter from a guy who picked up my drift bottle. Don't get me wrong, it's not the drifting bottle in QQ or WeChat, but a bottle I threw away in the Nansha Islands (anyway, a small island in the southernmost archipelago of the motherland). I really didn't think anyone would pick up this bottle, but someone did.
I didn't ask her what exactly was written on the bottle, which probably didn't matter. Nor are they together because of one bottle.
But yeah, I hope that like you, I can meet the perfect love.
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