The picture is bleak and bleak, like a dream estranged from reality, but it is naked and skinned, the emotions are delicate and quiet, but it is actually thrilling. The fog shrouded the wasteland, everything was wet, and the cold wind mixed with the smell of horse manure on the meadow slapped you in the face. It's not the original party, I don't understand your pain, but I love this emotional style. Weird and bold, cruel, inner tearing, all rubbed into the cold shots. Trapped in it, painful, but not wanting to come out.
View more about Wuthering Heights reviews
