So I also thought of the botanist's daughter in a trance. A story that keeps spinning like a Trojan horse in time, and I also rarely remember the names of Maud and Sue.
In today's materialistic world, vows are still a touching topic, let alone in 1860, when there was no need for a confession, in England, London, knowing oneself and knowing one another, ambiguous, or ambiguous.
Countless ambiguous.
After all, you are still obsessed with the step that you once dared not cross. You ask what to do on the wedding night, so she teaches you every step, crosses every step, thinking that you are pure white but already understand the temperament of men and women. She regrets not saving you and cannot change your destiny. That restraint became the estrangement between each other, and then became jealous, manipulated by others, shifted time, and exchanged identities. Until many years after changing your destiny. The encounter is in the scene of the first encounter.
You said: are you here to kill me?
Do not.
You must hate me.
Do not.
What more need to be said at this moment?
I only remember that you and her were in the strong and dazzling British sunshine many years ago, in the warning distance of fingers that we once dared not cross, and in the sleeves of the skirts that were twisted and turned.
The beautiful colors that they should have had, but were lost by accident.
The central image of your life is the rubbish heap, the filthy Thames, the passion that goes wrong... it's all part of life. There's a shimmer in it, but when you look at it in terms of color, it's a dark brown.
The word 'idyllic' is really powerful and pretty much the whole reason I love British cinema.
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