Last Night is too short to fully reflect the story in this story, as if trying to say that everything was condensed into last night, but it was not, it was their four-year marriage and her summer in Paris.
I have never understood why the Americans and the British have to write a movie and write a story to write all the young men and women as Paris and have a beautiful dream setting for France. This is definitely not a coincidence, it is a cultural expectation. France is so vulgar, Paris is not more vulgar, I don't want to pretend to be like them to learn a few words of French, chew a baguette, and save money to buy a plane ticket to Paris. I really think so, whenever I see the protagonists write those ridiculous and false French dreams in their diaries.
I don't know the charm of the French either. I guess they can recite poetry, draw and paint at most one musical instrument.
Later, I always went to a city in Canada called Montreal. Known as the Paris of North America. When I went there, I wanted me to have a good experience of what the so-called European feel in North America is, and listen to the intonation of French that French people can’t understand. At most, I will take two street shots and go back to Little London.
I went three times from autumn to winter. This trip is about the distance from my home to Urumqi in a 12-hour bus ride. I'm not bored either. This fake Paris is so good! I can't even imagine how obsessed the real Paris would be. That French is also really nice, although I sound like a North Korean who ate too much Sanlu milk powder and straightened his tongue. The buildings and streets are also really beautiful, and when it snows heavily, the muddy blackness of the whole road can't hide the charm. In the beginning of winter, wherever you go, there are women with brown trench coats wrapped in bare legs, and men with perfume to cover up the smell of wax. High heels like the catwalk, or reflective leather shoes, all have a word, expensive. I looked around and pretended to be just like them.
Guys who can dress up many times more than I do and girls with fine makeup have bought me a lot of stuff I can't even wear when I get back to London. Bought it might just give me a little comfort that I'm not far from Paris.
I also met very coquettish French men, who spoke French that I couldn't hear any difference from Québécois' French, and molested us who were in front of them in the long queue outside the club. I made up the story that I told countless times that I was a North Korean, and I was very happy when I saw their unbelievable eyes. There was a Frenchman named Francis or Maxim who told the story of his drifting across the ocean. That picture is if I could hold a cigarette between my fingertips.
French people's gestures are very different from Canadians. The pseudo-French people in Montreal have learned most of them, so I can't tell the difference. The French friend who went to mtl with me for the first time told me that we real French ppl party harder , I laughed and said then I know where I should do my exchange year.
I never thought there was anything special about French among the European exchange students in the school, until we went to mtl together, and a few drunken nights huddled and chatted about little secrets.
So finally back to this movie, I guess if this movie is about the heroine spending a day with her little lover, it won't have such a heart-wrenching effect, because the French are the most likely to create an enchantment that puts you in emotional distress at night. This effect is even the same as a summer in Paris. You can imagine a hundred times of physical derailment every minute while chatting, and the habitual actions of stroking your hair are like old couples who have been married for many years and still in love on the first weekend. I guess if the heroine was French, they would have flown away together the next day. Who cares how long they can last together after abandoning their family, as long as there is another passionate summer. Yet in places like New York, nothing and nothing happened.
I don't feel bad for the heroine at all. This kind of thing has not been played out many times in TV dramas. I saw in the comments that only married people know how hard a night like this is. It’s not difficult at all. It is not selfish to satisfy the senses and emotions. Human selfishness is as simple as an animal. Our reason and wisdom are all used to make up lies to comfort ourselves after the fact.
I just feel a pity that they are not together, and I feel a pity that I don't even know if they are in true love, because they all smelled unwillingness in each other's hugs. After I took a philosophy class and learned the meaning of the word happiness, I even felt that unwillingness was torture, the torture of letting the marriage that was barely defending the periphery perish, and the torture of going crazy and derailing again.
Blame the nights in New York for being too short, you fall asleep too early, you should watch the sunrise and talk about the saltiness of your Parisian summer.
Drinking should not be done with ice cubes to calm yourself down, and you should never be afraid that you will be sorry for the husband who has long been suspected of cheating. We don’t believe in God, let alone in Buddhism. What’s wrong with being selfish?
After all, you have been in the middle of the earth all your life, and you have not been able to write a book without success. I don't even have the courage to go to Paris to find the summer of vodka and Shengge when I was young. Sanguan and other human beings must be considered even in a storm.
So I said, you, if you get married and an old lover reappears, the reality is not what you want, and it happens that you live in New York, and it is always right to take a shot, especially if he is French.
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