Later, she got old, and the face of the person in front of her was like a peach blossom, and her eyebrows were high. Why did she hesitate, as if she had met a ghost. Her navy blue robe is not messy, but whether there are thousands of chapters hidden in her heart: I finally understand how desolate he must be when he is her current age and seeing her at his current age.
Teenager you came too late, or you came too early.
I thought that the two of them could grow old together. But not in form! Not in content! But it is abruptly to maintain, because life is short, and only the precious memories can be grasped. This is forced, and there will be tragedy if forced, and tragedy will have beauty. Where is there no tragedy in life? If we hold the hand of the son, grow old together with the son, and finally separate after a hundred years, what can we hold on to?
Let everything be submerged in the rolling torrent of time.
You can meet many, many people, you can have many, many lovers, and you can trample on many, many kinds of love. But only the kind of love that comes with one person and a period of time with it, that you were born for. I don't know what I haven't met before; as long as I have it, I don't want to live if I lose it. That is the brightest spark in life. After the prairie fires, it will be wiped out, and this heart will never grow.
This is a story written for all those who have and have lost this kind of love. The people in the story are struck by double the powerlessness in reality, but this love is not dead, and it has twice the power. The nourishment that this love brings to life reaches every pore of our life. It's not a by-product of time, it's the universe itself.
As I said, all stories are personal.
Ever since my lover died when I was twenty-four, I've carried his face as he was eighteen when I first met him. In the darkest night dreams, I often reach out to him as if the palm of my hand is still holding his cute smile. I hope I can also pick up a swaddle when I am old.
So I didn't dare to watch this movie a second time, for fear that my tears would flow into a thousand lines again.
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