Rich people can always do many things that poor people can't do. Although they may not practice the things they aspired to when the poor become rich, when the soul and money collide, the sparks may not be dazzling. But there must be no taste. The problem is, there is only one word in this world called "poor and happy", and it seems that it is doomed for the rich to be unhappy. So, the story started like this. The patient number "c'est partie"
fell ill in the middle of the night and was panting. The nurse slapped the babyphone off the table and continued to sleep. The whirring did not stop because of this. The patient appeared on the banks of the Seine at four in the morning. Is there a feeling that Paris at this moment belongs only to the two of them? Where does beauty come from, from the heart, from the freedom and peace of the heart. So this moment in the movie makes me feel beautiful.
The nurse's mother is a typical black woman living at the bottom of Paris society. She usually does basic cleaning work in hotels, restaurants, kitchens, hospitals and schools. I work with such aunts all the year round. Physical work, always revealing the exhaustion of despair. Day after day, year after year.
My mother often told me that people have no dignity when they are sick. This should be because the sick person is rich, but not happy. Although the nurse is uneducated and a little rude, he has no mercy when facing the sick. This is the greatest mercy. With equality, there is joy.
Life is a flowing feast, no one has to pity anyone.
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