As I recall, when I remember Mr. H, he always looked down and gloomy at the beginning of class; for Mr. Y, he flashed a smirk when he ran into him on the street after graduation. Whenever a memory emerges, the opening is so fixed, starting from a symbolic face with pure emotions, looking for clues of emotions to piece together their trivial appearances, and even, in the search again and again, the process of memory also changes. fixed.
When we meet someone for the first time, it is earth-shattering, but in the future, we will always know that the original thunder is just a strange shape of a puzzle about ourselves. Those images may be the bricks of our enlightenment, or the mud that flows when we are struggling, but But it has nothing to do with the parties. Even now, I often remember that in the old classroom of Normal University in my sophomore year of high school, on a hot afternoon after the rain, the ceiling fan stirred the hazy light and steam, and the only student who stayed on campus was sitting by the window, wearing a reading with headphones. His worn canvas shoes, lustrous golden-brown skin, raised nose and shaggy hair were all a distant dream.
So I seem to understand why when Federico said that he could stay with him to sleep tonight, he gently and firmly refused. Old people always have a sense of detachment, detached from this sick body. The pain makes the memory clear, and it also makes myself understand that the dream that is gone forever, I miss but I don't want to torture myself anymore, maybe this is the most honest and profound acceptance of my heart. Only in this way can the mother who has never been carved can be incorporated into the image - after all, I am not the one who confesses at your window that I failed to become a proud son. He, who once let his mother down because he chose to live his own life, finally came to an end to all kinds of unrequited feelings in the past in the narration of his old man.
It seems that we often lose the sense of control in our own life, as if we are stealing someone else's body, and we often wonder if we have lost our life inexplicably at a certain moment, at a time that may be important or unknown. . Just like an old man who went out to steal Mali, his life stopped forever in Norway when he was a teenager.
These symbolic characters and nodes are beyond our ability to cross, although the reconciliation was finally achieved after the ceremony of "the old man came".
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