The silent film was left blank, and a letter was sent to Lorca to speak to Dalí. Only after watching the whole film can it be understood. Lorca's opium-like voice is so powerful that it gives the viewer space to think. The abrupt opening remarks exploded the brain waves like thunder, and the deep male voice is like sweeping your auricle with a soft old-fashioned feather pen, and the heartbeat sinks with the unvoiced recitation verse by verse until Annihilation, this is the first impression of the show. When the hairy chrysalis transformed into a vulture, the ignorant and surly boy had already undergone a qualitative change when he reached room 7. Just because of the unintentional look at each other in the evening and afternoon, pretending to be sleeping and dancing, this advanced foreshadowing allowed the boys to see each other, a rare treasure. Dali said: "I saw the real you, naked, like a flayed wolf." Such a tacit understanding, tacit understanding, exploring the overthrow of traditional shame, but it is difficult to get a certain look. Dali, what are you running from? What stopped you from walking towards self-destruction? Can't love it, can it be used for you? The dance under the moonlight has become the climax of the chapter of life. I love the pure and seductive spirit of exploration. The dazzling shimmer clings to the surface of the skin, spinning, colliding, joyful but cautious. That night, I broke free from the shackles of my thoughts. , swimming towards each other gained joy. But, it was only that night. The oppression of the regime, the shackles of ideology, and the strange vision can really easily kill a person. El Salvador, what drives you crazy is that you hide your love deep in your heart. If it wasn't for love, why would you pretend to be and say some hurtful words, why would you always run to get his attention? Your love is long and forbidding. . Federico, sharp eyes in the smoke, naked, bloody, and arrogant, when you read poetry, it was when I was intoxicated. A person with countless amazing thoughts in his head. "I sing his grace with moaning words, and I remember a sad wind in the olive groves"
If I turn into a fish, I will be a cave for you to rest in. If I turn into grass, I am the dewdrop for your nourishment. If I turn into an angel, I will look up to the eyes of an angel. If I turn into eyes, I'll turn into a blade and cut you into pieces.
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