Yesterday, she was a successful and well-known female writer. At the new book launch, she was holding champagne, eating homemade chocolate, and being intellectually beautiful. She is the envied woman in people's eyes, with love in the left hand, friendship in the right hand, and a perfect life. Unfortunately, it was yesterday.
Today, she is sitting in the lawyer's office with tears on her face, hurt in her heart, and red, swollen and painful eyes. Lack of creative inspiration, life lost its source, her husband filed for divorce. And his new love fell in love with the only valuable house in her hands, and forced her to compromise through a lawyer. She said, "Divorce doesn't kill people, but when someone who's shown you love to the death and suddenly says, 'I never loved you,' it can kill people." She took the only A few books, left alone. This year, she is 35 years old.
Toscani was a chance encounter in her life, like a surprise when she looked back.
Beautiful Italy, beautiful Mediterranean city - Tuscany. The blue sea, the slightly salty wind, and the white roofs are connected one by one. The market was crowded and noisy, with mortal warmth, the melodious bells rang out from the ancient spires, and the missionaries in black robes stopped, closed their eyes and drew a cross. Children chasing each other flash past you, and a charming and enchanting woman holds a bird and feels its feathers with the skin on her face. The brown stone road winds in the city, with bright shop windows and a quiet smile. Diane Lane's Frances said, here, I smell purple.
This is a story of pursuit and arrival, a story of a helpless and hopeless woman reborn, a heartwarming story.
"Between Italy and Austria, there is a part of the Alps called the Simerin, which is unimaginably steep and a very high part of this mountain, and a railway was built across the Alps to connect Vienna and Venice , build these tracks before there are trains, because they know that there will be trains one day."
Frances's dull clothes, the shocking wrinkles on her face, everything is slowly disappearing, but even if it is not so, she can't tolerate it. The neglected beauty glows dimly.
One man after another came and went by her side, and some even touched the flames. However, none of them were the real protagonists. This was Frances's story, and the process of her own transformation. She said, I haven't met true love yet, but I believe there is, so I'm still searching and waiting, please believe it.
Older houses always have quirks, like rusted faucets that don't work. So do we, with traces of past lives, but not forever. Rusty and dry faucets will gurgling water again, and we will change, too, with time.
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