Four days ago, I learned that the Municipal Library is holding a free film exhibition, "Kekexili" on February 13.
I thought about how little I was, and I was owed nearly half a month of scholarship. Thinking of my embarrassed life in the past four months, I have never been to the cinema once.
So I decided to watch this "Kekexili" that I've always wanted to see but I've always missed.
The projection room is huge, no different from a normal cinema.
On weekend nights, Spaniards who love to go to bars go to bars, and some rare weirdos sit sparsely and quietly. When the show starts, they are very quiet.
I was with my Mexican friend Jimena.
She is going home soon. I miss her so much. Although she often stole my food at first, four months was enough time for us to understand each other and give birth to a friendship that was not meager.
At six o'clock, the punctual Spaniard starts the movie on time.
The first time I saw Chinese subtitles appear on the screen, I was a little excited.
Seeing the guy who spent three years alone in a no-man's land and broke his radio wave goodbye to his friends, I thought he was a real guy.
While I was still connected to the Internet for four months, I often felt lonely.
Then I started crying.
The bones of hundreds of Tibetan antelopes were burned by a fire.
A living human being drowned in the billowing sand in an instant.
In order to make a living, he had to sell the sheepskin that he had protected with his life. The captain said, I can't control whether I break the law or not, I can only control my own brother.
Jimena kept repeating one word, fuerte, yes, it was all too strong, too thick.
Each pre-separation brother's hug was full of emotion, because each could be the last.
They're a poor, down-to-earth bunch, but when you see them driving their ramshackle jeeps chasing hunters without sleep, it's easy to think of a word for high spirits.
Under the splendid galaxy, they once sang the song about dedicating white flowers to grandma.
They died one by one, and finally, facing the muzzle of a large group of hunters, the lone captain said in a calm tone: I want you to go back with me and confess your guilt.
In the end, we both burst into tears.
Jimena hugged me and said, stop crying, stop crying.
I said I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it. That's my motherland, and there are still people living like that in my motherland, but with the scholarship my motherland gave me, I kept worrying about my little troubles every day.
I am ashamed.
Thinking of "Seventeen Don't Cry" I watched in middle school, the adolescent children in it all had ideals.
I had it at the time.
I think I still have it now, we all have it, but most of the time he falls asleep.
I feel a power.
Hot-blooded youth, as long as we want, we can actually do it.
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