without exception, love is usually the introduction of a story, but no one expects conspiracy and lies are also foreshadowing. For stories about love, we often guess the end, but cannot judge the beginning.
A young, healthy and fertile woman, this is what he needs. He must pick up the woman who has never met by boat at six o'clock, and finish the wedding at nine o'clock, so that he can return to his factory again at ten o'clock, and love is only reserved for those who believe in it. Everything is being arranged, but God added a footnote between the truth and the lie.
Love started from the moment she got off the boat, but he didn't notice it and wouldn't believe it. He watched the woman coming from the opposite light and shadow, the dust rose slightly in the scorching Mediterranean afternoon sun, and then bunches fell on the woman's lace umbrella, he suddenly found that this destination was extremely comfortable and stable. A beautiful woman, a rich man, the story begins without suspense.
After that, the ears and temples are rubbed together, from every morning to every night, it seems that time is never enough. He unconsciously gave her everything, the manor, money, time, and love, from a man who sparingly paid the manor to a man who purely loved. His composure became sensitive and fragile because of her pampering, and his fearlessness became subtle and cautious because of her impermanence. He thinks that giving can be exchanged for the same weight, heal all pains, and redeem all sins. It’s just that people often don’t understand, and we can’t be sure and believe, besides lies, there is love. So it was so painful that I couldn't bear it anymore, and I couldn't lose it anymore, only to realize that the wounded was the one who feared him the most pain, the betrayed was originally the most worried, and the lost was the most cherished.
She ran away from him, with all his money, the person he knew best, closest to him, and eager to take care of him day and night, was a liar, a murderer. He frantically searched every place where she left traces, and finally in the prostitute's greasy room, he had the power to find her and kill him by himself. From this moment on, I fell in love with this man, when he was hoarse with a gun at her, when he violently threw her to the ground, when he told the betrayer that he couldn’t breathe without her and he couldn’t live without her. At that time, my dear Antonio, he took away all my tears.
escape. It was the beginning of salvation for her, and the beginning of a nightmare for him. But it will be sweet, because that person is there. Money, status, security, even dignity, and life are not worth all of him, and they are regarded as a murderer who has abandoned his shoes. It's just that this kind of giving was too heavy. The moment he was rolled down the stairs by the men at the poker table, it was not painful but heavy in his heart when he ran over her. His happiness was like falling off the seventeenth floor and was easily broken.
In the end she made coffee for him and put a very heavy poison. They were sitting at both ends of the table talking, the lights in the middle were always dangling, and the coffee cups were misting in their hands. He found that he could not escape the love, from the beginning to the end, because he knew the woman named Juliet or Bonnie, the woman who put poison in the coffee, sitting across from him was like a woman who had been sitting all his life. He saw her face deformed by happiness, regret, and helplessness, slowly twisting opposite him, and then drank a hot cup of coffee in her scream. . . . . .
Later, we all believed that the so-called vicissitudes of life, the so-called love, hatred, and hatred, finally had a stinging experience.
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