I like what the little priest said. He said, what on earth is our goodness calculated? Is it something we reject and oppose? Or is it something we create, feel, and tolerate?
I still like that The kangaroo that only lives in the little girl's imagination is so real. It is colder than the small town, more real than the north wind in winter, and more real than the broken grandma's ashes. It's like chocolate made by my mother, and it's unreasonably strong.
However, that's why we want chocolate, so life is magical.
I still think today, why do we write things. Maybe, it's because the world is too bad and lacks something. Only through words, colors, and notes can we be complete, come alive, unfold, and become beautiful, infinite, and happy.
I think, if I have to choose one of the two, maybe I would rather live in a world full of crazy artists, instead of being surrounded and buried by the robot-like thinking of an engineer forever. They are alive, but they don't have magic, and they don't believe in magic, how terrible.
Looking for the author of Chocolat on amazon, I accidentally turned to Listmania: Witch Fiction!
It seems that I am not the only one who sees through the true identity of the heroine of this film.
Look for it slowly after you put it away.
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