Yes, I must love you.
Since when did I fall in love with you? From the moment your fingers rubbed my body or from the moment I confided to you the secrets of my heart?
I also forgot, forgot when I started to fall in love with you.
On that day, we met on the street. The street at the moment is depressed and depressed. The two American atomic bombs made Hiroshima and Nagasaki disappear. Compared with the disappearance of the city, the casualties of human life and death seem to be insignificant.
The streets were full of marchers, all kinds of wounded and uninjured people marching through the streets.
Why are they marching? - for resistance.
Resist what? - Projection of anti-antigen bullets.
against whom? - against the government? Or against American politicians? Who knows.
Does resistance make sense? ——Anyway, the government doesn’t mind resistance, and politicians far away in the United States will not give up bombing because of people’s resistance.
Then why resist? - People who are injured always do something to relieve their injuries, even if the things they do are meaningless.
...
we just stared at each other on the street like this. He is steady and handsome, with elegance and desire in his eyes, what a contradiction. Forgetting who said it first, forgetting how it went on, and by the time I started to remember again, I was already in the hotel bed. He was fast asleep. Why am I here? Just because you want to find someone to commit to? Or is it because the body has desires? He lay prone on the bed, his fingers moving slightly. He must be dreaming, but what is he dreaming about? Does he have his own secret too? Why is his posture so familiar?
A bloody picture flashed before his eyes. The original memory is waiting here. It turned out that he was so like the first love, the man who was shot, the German soldier who was dating every day at the age of 18. At that time, the war was drawing to a close, and German soldiers were stationed in Venelles, France, my hometown. After the war ended and Germany was defeated, we made an appointment to go to Paris together, but at the pier where we dated, the first love was shot by someone else. I guarded his body all day. Later, I became a parental disgrace.
Looking at the strange man on the bed, walking towards him, rubbing his skin, kissing his cheek, the smell of kissing the face of a dead first love reappeared. At that time, the first love lying by the river was covered in blood.
Because of kissing that bloody face, when I was locked in the cellar because of embarrassment to my parents, I started scratching my hand against the wall until ten fingers bleed. I fell in love with licking the blood of my own fingers. It was like licking the face of first love, the bloody but familiar face.
The man in front of him woke up. The strange man I just met looked at me. Seems to want to see the secret in my heart.
"Don't go. I think I'm in love with you. You make me want to love." His opening was so direct.
"No, I have to go."
"Then will you come again? I want to see you again."
"No"
"I want to see you again."
When
did I stop loving in my heart? From the moment my first love was shot, to the time when I was locked in the cellar by my parents for what seemed like an eternity. When one is locked in a cellar, there is nothing but darkness and gloom. I kept scratching at the wall with my fingers, the only time my mind was aware. I called the name of my first love over and over again, why didn't you show up to save me, and promised to elope to Paris together, why did you break your promise!
The man in front of him is really strange. He said he loves me. what is love? Is the pleasure of the body love? I'm just a wandering woman who will eventually return, where will I return? Back to her husband's side, maybe.
We are separated.
Came here just to make a movie about peace. Filming a film about peace in a place where the atomic bomb has just been hit, that's the shrewdness of businessmen, who always know where the public's attention is. I'm leaving by car tomorrow. Yes, going back to Paris. When I fled from Venel to Paris overnight, I decided not to return to Venel. Growing up there, meeting my first and only love there, spending the craziest time of my life there. What is madness? A strong love-hate relationship is madness.
We met again, on a street corner. Without hesitation, I followed him. Walk through the crowds of the parade to his home. He said that he was a happy married man with a beautiful wife. He was going out now and would be back in two days. Yeah, I'm also a happily married woman, and in Paris, there's a guy named Husband waiting. In his home, hugs, kisses and makes love. He said into my ear: I really love you, don't leave.
But I remembered my dead first love again. I want to leave, hurry up and leave this place that reminds me of my first love. We came to a bar. At this moment, I suddenly have a desire, a desire to share secrets with others. He listened so carefully, regarded himself as my first love, followed my story, and imagined our picture.
When I remembered clearly again and told the past, I found that my heart was numb, and both love and hatred disappeared with the corpse of my first love. It seems that the only memory is the daily meeting with him on a bicycle and his blood-covered body lying by the river.
Experienced so long, it took a whole adolescence. Memories are so short, and it takes a few decades to talk about it.
When he learned that he was the first to hear my story, he jumped up and hugged me excitedly. It seems that this is what sets him apart from others, other men. It seems that he possessed me more than anyone else. At that moment, I didn't want to leave.
Yes, I don't want to leave, stay in this broken city with this married man, and repair the consciousness that I'm starting to recover - the consciousness of loving and feeling love.
It was you who gave me a great desire to love. How rare is this desire. While we were one of those who met love, we were also one of the most special. I like men and I have doubts about morality. You like women and you doubt the morals of others.
We met and this is our love.
You say you want to see me again, then I won't go.
I met you, I remember you. forever.
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