Ueno, Ginza, Shibuya...
Tokyo Tower, Mount Fuji, Shinkansen...
Bars, dancing girls, jazz...
I really like the feeling of the camera picking up the debris on the streets of Tokyo, how like my first time to Beijing, sitting on the bus and curious Looking at the lanterns outside. These broken shots are paired with psychedelic music, and the feeling of lost is ready to come out.
She sat in front of the beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel, her eyes swaying at the skyscrapers under her feet.
He smiles gently at the camera again and again and takes a sip of virtual whiskey.
Many times there is no translation, he just listens. Although he doesn't understand, he still listens. Even with the translation, lost is still, even stronger, she and he and his friends, he and his wife and family, they are all so close but far from those people. I really liked his communication with the Japanese old man when he was waiting for her in the hospital. He didn't understand what he said, but he regarded his words as singing, and the two laughed. Compared with the stereotyped smile in the hotel, compared with the unbridled jokes among friends, the communication this time is extraordinarily warm.
I love the way the two of them look at each other. There is no lust, no struggle between sex and love, or even despair, just clear loneliness and the warmth of eyes. Tired, lost, relying on each other for a while, a very clean relationship, the kiss at the time of parting is a gift for each other.
In just one week, the brief intimacy crossed the two mountains of love and family, and perched under the unclear sky in Tokyo.
lost, the unstoppable lost... After whispering, he turned his back and left, her tears were swirling, but they never raged.
A voice in my heart kept echoing: our loneliness is so lonely.
Compared with the translation of "Lost in Translation", I prefer "lost in translation".
translation is sometimes almost impossible.
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