Rimbaud's last kiss to Verlaine is something I will never forget. In fact, it is so illusory. I like both actors. One has a very pure British accent, neither lukewarm nor fragrant; the other is complete, standing in the play. Both are excellent, and Leo might be more appropriate. Life is so real. The poet of reality is mad for the dreamer, and the dreamer is mad only because he has not yet seen reality. A born poet who later stopped writing poetry was the greatest resistance Rimbaud could do.
I suddenly remembered Pu Shu's lyric "This is a world that can't stay too long". Sometimes there is a lot to say, but there are only a few words I want to say. But the same is true of life, the preparation and the delay in occupying the stage take longer than what is actually done.
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