"Lost in Translation" is really a name I've heard for a long time. Today's intensive reading class teacher Wang sent a collocation exercise unexpectedly. The first thing I saw was the capitalized and bold Lost in Translation. Well, the whole world is urging me.
Coincidentally, it took turns to correct mistakes, and it was acquaintance when it came to me.
"I think it should be a relationship."
"Well, I also think," the teacher paused, "but the answer is friendship. Don't worry about him."
To be honest, I thought it was funny too! After all, I've been listening to everyone talking about it during supper, but no one has ever talked about friendship. So at noon, I rushed back to my bedroom to download. After throwing away the cauldron of group day activities in the afternoon, I created a movie-watching environment for myself in my bedroom that I thought was "lost": draw the curtains, turn off the lights, and put it on the outside; until the credits were finished, the Japanese girls were brilliant on the screen. waved, exited, turned on the lights, and pulled the curtains. Suddenly I felt that these two hours were the real "Lost in Dorm" for me.
I really liked the portrayal of Tokyo because it seemed too un-Japanese and too Japanese. I remembered that when I went to Tokyo Tower, I ran across those strange roads in order not to miss the closing time, and finally found out that I had made the wrong time. But it doesn't matter. After seeing the night scene, I think everything is worth it. Later, when I got off the elevator and walked out of the door, there was a strong de javu, "Have I really been up there?" "Is everything I saw real?" Such questions arise. Sitting on the not-so-empty subway back to the homestay, I hit UNO all night, woke up the next evening, and my memory was even more blurred. Up to now, I only remember that the little brother at the barbecue restaurant that night looked a lot like Sakamoto.
The feeling of being lost is not something that only occurs in Tokyo, nor does it arise in an unfamiliar environment. The feeling of being lost is first and foremost an instinct. The same is true for Bob and Charlotte, who are driven by instinct in crowded elevators, in bustling bars, and in chaotic streets, exuding an air that only their own kind can recognize. The encounter between the two is destined to separate, and it is not even a small episode for each other. So I think getting off the train at the last section is really redundant. It starts in the elevator and ends in the elevator.
Because you can get lost anywhere, you can actually find the same kind anywhere. //See Teacher Shen's self-segmentation
I always feel that something is not right, but thinking that the friendship that seems to be a joke in the back is more appetizing to me~
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