movie is a dream, and watching a movie is a dream. When the movie ends, it often feels like waking up from a dream. Only "1942", but I don't think it is a dream. Walking out of the auditorium and seeing the bright golden theater front porch, it was like walking from one room to another, but the scene changed, and I was always in reality. After watching this movie, I understand a lot of what Jung said about the collective subconscious. I think those things are familiar to me, so familiar that I can't feel cruel, so familiar that they are indifferent and numb. The old boss said, "The whole family will die together", "It's good to die, you won't be punished", I seem to have heard my father say these words; Embarrassing, when he was killed, the rash, dazed, "How dare you put him in the pot" came out like a fool, I seem to think that the drowsy chaos is my past, in that case, People around me have said it, and so have I. I just felt that I was not afraid of death, I just pulled the car and walked forward with my head down. Wherever you go, no matter where you go, the starving dead, the howling baby, the gray sky, the muddy road, and the dog biting the corpse are nothing. I just keep moving, moving, moving. I am willing to remember such times, not because of hunger, not because of history, whether it is Chairman Jiang or Stalin Roosevelt, even if I know, I don’t care, I don’t care about everything that happens in the world, because everything is in harmony with I don't care. It's related, what I care about is that bit of tattered belongings, the ragged jacket with cotton sprouting everywhere, and it's not grey or blue. The sleeves of the jacket rubbed the mud and snot into a dirt shell, but it also blocked the wind. When I lay down at night, I can also endure the winter cold; what I care about is the fact that the whole family will die together, the slight temperature of the crowded together, the insignificance, ignorance, numbness, Stubborn hope. We die believing that we will be saved, so we don't cry. In the movie theater, I didn't cry because my ancestors must not cry. "Why are you crying, what's the use of crying."
Er
However, when I came out of the cinema, I cried all the way back to my house. Because I miss home. Although my grandparents came from farmers, they have lived in the city as far as I can remember, and I have never been to the real countryside. I also think of my father and the outline of my childhood. I say the outline because there are no details for me to recall. People in the family rarely talk to each other because the things to be conveyed are very simple. I have forgotten this simplicity for many years, it seems to see little light, like the roots of a tree rooted deep into the ground, far away from the dazzling outside world. The movie reminds me of this simplicity. When the outside world is extremely desolate, this simplicity becomes more and more clear. The outline in my memory, between me and others, is often indifferent, lonely and poor outside, while the inside is simple and shabby. , The bare roots of the tree have been reaching into the invisible darkness, connecting me firmly with my relatives. However, because it is simple, shabby, and naked, because it is not only simple, shabby, and naked, but also excludes any extension, so to experience that simplicity, you can only be shabby and naked forever, and I did my best to escape. Now I think back, I recall the simple but profound connection except the shabby and naked, the connection that does not reveal the ground and therefore cannot be severed, I am homesick, and tears fall on the plate while eating, on the bus, I put my face on my face To the window, lest others see the tears rolling down. History is not important, big figures are not important, those are too far, too far, all we know, what we need to protect is that little bit that still blindly and carelessly extends under the extreme poverty and famine, under the dry and cracked ground Roots.
three
The root is blind, it does not open its eyes. Therefore, the people did not know how to rebel, but just meekly, resolutely, and unbelievably stubborn, starved to death in batches on the road. No, that would be the opposite. It is because the people do not rebel that they close their eyes, make them forget their will and only perceive a little bit of mutual warmth, and it is not any external force that makes them move like machines until they can no longer act. And first of all themselves, a huge fear. They are afraid to open their eyes, otherwise they will have to face the real feelings, the choices they have to make, the many things they don't understand and the strange things, they will enter the vortex and rely on themselves power to deal with all things. In contrast, closing eyes, enduring hunger, using each other's body heat for power, moving along lines handed down by ancestors, and holding on to hope, whether it's from the government or from God— - This is much simpler. The priest asked: If the Lord cannot help us, why should we believe? Faith means that faith will definitely get help, will definitely be able, will definitely be able, except for faith, I don’t want anything else, I don’t make a choice, until I lose the strength to think about these three words, so I don’t suffer anymore.
4
Because of the existence of the possible collective subconscious, I look at this famine numbly. It wasn't until now, a few days later, when I re-watched those stills, that I felt something close to "shock", but only slightly, because I could easily return to -- feel that situation, fade into that numbness and dazedness. So, I feel that there are two mes, one is the subsistence, lazy, soft me, and the other is the hungry, sluggish and numb me, these two are different, but they are not divided, they have one thing in common : They have a deep fear, they are all afraid to straighten their heads, open their eyes, and see their situation without defense. My ancestors, they walked with their heads down and lived with their eyes closed. They didn’t care about history, they couldn’t see history. No matter how hard we imagined and racked our brains to restore it, what we saw in our eyes was only Lots and lots of irrelevant pieces. To this day, there are still so many history, reality, imagination, and observation floating around and torn apart.
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Every time I write something, I feel very thrilling, and the ideas seem to be strung together by luck...
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