I recently sorted out the data on the hard drive and found a paragraph written many, many years ago. At that time, I watched most of An Zhe's films, and it is unforgettable to this day. The father who wrote has long since gone, and just went to visit the tomb at Qingming. I am old too, only words are still young. Post your experience on the Internet and let it drift in the Greek waters for a while.
Yesterday, I was chatting with a friend who suffers from depression about the film of the Greek director Angelopoulos (the director of "The Gaze of Ulysses"). In his "Eternal and One Day" there is a fragment:
When Turkey ruled Greece, a young poet fled abroad. Years later, when he heard the news that the Chinese people were uprising, he was so excited that he wanted to use the pen as a weapon to fight. But he has lived abroad for so long that he can no longer write in his native language freely. He left Venice, where he lived, and returned to his home island of Zante. The same color, the same smell, but he can't communicate in words. So he traveled the countryside, the fields, jotting down what he heard and buying words he didn't understand.
The news spread, and poor people rushed to sell the words they knew to poets. He bought:
abyss,
incense,
dewy,
source,
Heaven,
wave,
lake,
unknown,
and fragrant.
A girl taught him "confused" and he would say "confused night". Using the words he sold, he finally wrote "Praise for Freedom" in his native language, and an unfinished long novel "Free the Trapped".
The 80-year-old father made a living by writing, but now he has lost interest in writing. He knows every word in his native language, but he doesn't know how to express his understanding of life in words in this changed world. As a result, those familiar words lost their lifelike appearance, and without their connection, the thoughts buried in the head gradually precipitated into black stones.
Melancholy, autistic friends, no matter how old, are lonely because of the loss of language. In fact, if we want to say something to the world, we have to wander around looking for islands where we can buy words. When those words rearrange the thoughts into moving verses, the black stones will fly out of the mind and turn into white doves to roam the sky.
View more about Eternity and a Day reviews
