The boy's parents in the play are tired and troubled by reality and the attitude of the two children towards life is completely different, "The greatest reward life gives us is to let We fight for what is worth"...Two children create their own wonderland, and the only bridge to reach it is a rope hanging from a tree...a poetic innovation...
childhood I also often conceive the kingdom of my dreams with my partners. In the kingdom, we can dominate everything. I don’t know when it started, and this kind of game slipped away from us. We, who are more and more integrated into reality, recall In childhood games, I lost a little bit of nostalgia again and again, and I laughed a little more at myself. In real life, the fairyland is far away from us. We want to move towards our own "Wonderland", so we gradually become more indifferent, less laughter and moved, because it seems that the way to reach "Wonderland" is to be more realistic... At the
end of the play, the little girl died of an accident , the little boy didn't even see her last time... I haven't read Xi Murong's book, but I saw this passage of her on the Internet, "There are many things in this world, you think you can continue to do them tomorrow. Yes, there are many people who will definitely meet again. So when you temporarily put your hands down, or turn around temporarily, all you think about is the hope that tomorrow will be reunited again. Sometimes, even this hope is felt No. Because you think that since the days come and go like this, of course they should pass like this. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. It should be no different. But there will be a day when you let go and turn around. In an instant, some things change completely. Before the sun goes down, and before it rises again, some people will say goodbye to you forever."
Bridge of Wonderland, a movie that moistens my long-dried tear ducts....
I can't find the shadow of the blockbuster, but it makes people palpitate everywhere~~ It is worth seeing.
You'll remember those names, Jesse, Leslie, Maybell, Amon. . . .
And those good interludes....
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