Men are the looks I like. Calm and restrained. Not young. Not handsome, but with a slightly tolerant expression, and smiled with a warm sense of peace of mind.
In fact, it's just that cliché plot. She was seriously injured, and her soul left her body and returned to the apartment where she used to live. The man rented it. Become the only person in this world who can see her soul.
Some very tender details. He took good care of her mahogany table. She shuttled through the crowd but couldn't feel her presence. He took her to the garden he once designed.
Those gardens where roses and roses are blooming.
The sunlight outside the window always comes as promised. The color of this city brings with it the vividness and brightness unique to coastal cities. But she is bound to stay away from everything. Therefore, the more beautiful, the more likely it is to cry.
Because it is destined to be lost.
Los Angeles
seems to indicate too much plot with such a name. It's only this time that we saw each other. Her soul returned to the body. And the small garden he built on the roof made her remember him. Remember those warm traces that seemed to have existed.
Music has always been what I like, but she forgot about him when she woke up. He sits alone on a wooden chair in the park. She walked through the crowd, facing people's smiles in doubt. His figure faded in the afternoon sun in the apartment. Her figure gradually became clear, but she felt something lost in her heart.
We almost thought this was the end, and Los Angeles always gave us the illusion that we missed.
It's just that the garden on the roof was finally able to meet Consummation.
Such an ordinary story. I love Los Angeles more. The characters are always like some notes of the outline of the city. Or Mingyan, or sad. The city is calm and unhurried, unassumingly beautiful in the camera. It even warms this story, and warms our hearts.
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