The whole time, I kept having a kind of hallucination. It's as if you are in the film, everything you see with your own eyes. But in fact, I shouldn't be like this at all. For that era, it only came from the words that wanted to make it clear, and the history of evasiveness. The real side has never been known.
In fact, it seems, there is really nothing brilliant. Being scolded by her mother, truancy, love (not called affection), group fights, loyalty... The turbulent youth of vigorous blood seems so familiar, but it can only be yearned for. The time that can't hold it will run away, and the direct and simple era will gradually disappear. It's just that time has passed, what is left in the memory?
Milan. What a nice name, with all kinds of expectations, the longing from the depths of your heart. The most primitive attraction, from the dangling two white legs, seduces the instinctive desire of the body. Regardless of whether they have known each other before, Ma Xiaojun's thoughts are naked and direct, with curiosity and timidity. If you travel back a bit and the time is chaotic, this story will only be laughed at today. Yes, where is there such a thing now. It's just that when an idea is repeated hundreds or even thousands of times, the subconscious mind will think it's true. This is the truth. However, people are always misled by themselves.
But when you get out of the status quo and get out of the prison, and then look back, you can always find that there is a gap of 108,000 miles from what you thought. Contradictions, disappointment, resentment, and unwillingness, all of them succumbed to the enemy, as if they had to do something by themselves in order to reluctantly rebuild their self-esteem that they had been addicted to and imagined.
I don't know what was the leading factor in the confusion in the 1970s, but I've seen "The True Story of Ah Fei" before, and the way of constantly seeking seems to be so similar. In fact, how far the 1970s are from us, it seems that it is just the first page of the book. However, when I look back on my youth, even if it is still there, I still feel bleak. How dare I act so boldly. In the constant remorse, time has passed, and I am angry that I have never picked up the brick and patted the sky of others.
Compared with the 1980s, when the youth with thick blood was poured into it, I was afraid that it was really a splash of ink, but I couldn't envy it. It's a pity that those living faces have gradually lost their vividness under the erosion of time, and their spirits have disappeared in the polishing of time. When we ask about the sunny days of our father's generation, the longing and melancholy in our eyes may be deeper than ours.
If this is the 1970s, the 1970s after the tragic disappearance of the big era, I would say, this is almost what I think. It's just that some of the memories that have passed through time are close to reality, but youth is always better. Maybe no matter what era, the so-called "Cruel Story of Youth" is just another insight after learning to survive after losing.
I failed heating, it was cold.
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