Life is a journey of exile and wandering, but most people have handed themselves over to the mundane world, using the established track of others and society to drag themselves forward, and the inner voice disappeared long before they knew how to flatter others. Or, the echo of loneliness in my ears forever. We can't resist the wildness brought by Tristan's horses roaring from the field, can't stop Alfred from standing out in the crowd with the halo of civilization progress, can't stop pure Samuel from going to a war he doesn't understand and losing his life, the screenwriter chose Susan To endure all this, on her time coordinate, the colonel's three sons have fallen one after another, but everyone is burdened with hopes that she can't achieve, and they are stuck with a lifetime of love, hate and waiting. extricate themselves. The breath of freedom is cruel, and Tristan is oozing bear blood, chasing his own impulses. The man weeping in front of Samuel's tomb, with long hair fluttering and tenderness like water, is difficult for any woman to escape such a cowardly cowardice, and Susan is no exception. Falling in love with wild freedom means accepting his cruel choice, "Even if I have a child, do you still want to go?" Tristan almost got on his horse without hesitation, and left his spitting lover in the dust. He loves her, I firmly believe. It's just that the nature of freedom is above everything, including one's own life, so how can you take care of the happiness of love? After waiting year after year, only inexplicable things are sent from isolated islands or wastelands, and there are overwhelming loneliness and deep bone marrow. despair. She never thought that there would be a reunion, "forever is too far", this is Susan's excuse, because the waiting end that she thought would never be reached actually appeared. I can totally feel her regret and amazement, fate is so playful, little Isabel's dress, samuel playing astride Tristan's neck, It was originally hers, and she had to endure those years of empty and hopeless waiting, and she had to endure the sadness of handing over her lover and dreams to others. Susan has a shadow of ourselves, we choose to persist because of love and dreams, we have to give up because our ideals are too far away, because we are not vulgar people who firmly follow our inner voice and live, so we can't be like little Isabelle, insisting from childhood "he is my man" and stubbornly waited until that day. Maybe, time to make a joke again, let us be like Susan, always missing the person we love most, always passing by the most beautiful dream, so believe in fate and waiting, from crying jealous to laughing envious, comfort ourselves Plainness is the truth. And those roaring voices, suppressed in the bottom of my heart, always sounded in the middle of the night, so falling in love with the legend of autumn in a foreign country, I was moved by my own passionate years.
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