This is a fairy tale, because only in fairy tales, your favorite person will quietly say to you: "You will forget me." The most special people are lunatics. You will tell him. The world is plain and boring, only that person can make you special. If you think this is a dream, he will ask you anxiously: "Then I don't exist? Am I just your imagination?" I would rather, you are just my imagination. I remember that there was no such love story in the childhood "Alice", but Tim Burton interprets it as if there is no love. When Johnny Depp painted a face of oil paint and looked at Mia Wasikowska, everything around him turned into a virtual world, with a scent of fragrant scent traveling through it. We all forgot about it. Perhaps in the fairy tales at that time, there was such love. Or maybe, the fairy tales at that time quietly hid those loves, the recorders deliberately forgot, the deliberate intentions of the adults, or our ignorant and bewildered eyes that hid everything. I used to think that the prince would pick up me who didn't wear crystal shoes. Later I learned that the prince would not pick me up. I used to think that the prince would come and kiss me who was sleeping, but then I realized that the prince would kiss the girl who was awake. I used to think that as long as I sacrificed and turned into a bubble, the prince and princess could live happily together. Later I learned that the prince and princess would never be happy. No one will be happy for your sacrifice. I saw the bubble slowly rise, but I don't understand why all this is different from what Green said, and why Andersen wants to lie to us. The rabbit with the pocket watch finally failed to take me to the wonderland. I fell into a tree hole and only hurt. I imagined a story, and this story imagined me.
View more about Alice in Wonderland reviews
