Sometimes an overly complicated story is not needed. That makes me more tired.
Maybe I was moved by that night... not love.
Of course, many stories, plus love would be better.
But I don't care.
I really like the background music. After hearing it, it reminded me of late night in America.
Do not know why.
Love Sam's house. And the large lake outside, swaying in the late-night light. There is probably a light or heavy wind blowing through the shallow waves and blowing into the child's dream.
That kind of late night gives a slightly lost consolation. I remember when I was very young, crossing the early morning highway behind my parents to get home. The street lights were dim, and the speakers beside her were playing Teresa Teng's sweet and greasy songs, or very old Blues. This is not home, but it gives me such a longing and not urgent feeling.
Late at night makes me long for the light. Let me turn to thinking of those who can make me feel warm.
Maybe that's the beauty of it.
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