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A movie is a piece of history that reproduces a past event in a particular era on a certain corner of the planet; a movie is a past event that reproduces a memory that touches people's hearts; The movie is a memory that recreates the unforgettable moments of the stream of light. That period of history was a past event. That past event is a memory of the past. Or a few minutes, or tens of minutes, or a few hours, we can immerse ourselves in it. However, at the moment when the light is on, there is only one ending, and I still have to return to my life without knowing when to start. I have only cried once in my memory, but now I am so emotional, watching the stories of others in the movie again and again, but silently shed my own tears. In the "Old Boy", the scene of all beings, "Shawshank's Redemption", in the thunderstorm night after Andy was imprisoned for 20 years, thunder and smashed the picture of the sewer pipe again and again, "The Spring in the Cowboy Class" When the superintendent left the pond, the scene of a paper plane flying out of the window, the tree in the "Faithful Eight Dogs" was green and yellow, yellow and green, "Remember my mother" The mother of Alzheimer's disease trembled from the black box and took out the piece of paper that had already been yellowed. The meditation of his son's childhood poetry could not control the transparent liquid that flowed out of the eyes and could be long. It can also be short. All the way to the scenery, all the way to laughter, all the way to the bitterness, but always have the same end. I think of this way, I am now in a near-year, but I am drifting away. Every time I meet, I will find that my father��s white hair is more and more, I don��t know how many roots, and my mother��s eyes add a few more. Time wrinkles. I have suddenly understood something since I received my father��s phone call in the middle of the night in March. My grandmother was gone. I couldn't see the last side of her old man. Later, I heard that my grandmother had been calling the names of several of our brothers and sisters when she was away, until she struggled to swallow the last breath of the world mokingusacigarettes.com. I can imagine the scene at the time. But I can't imagine how my grandmother's eyes would be. In the old house where she lived for decades, after eight years of struggle in the shadow of her illness on the bandits she had been lying for decades, she walked silently. Listening to the old man in the village said that the grandmother was originally from Shaanxi. When her father came to our county to sing the Qin opera, she settled down to our house. I also want to know the details. It��s just that she is gone now, I Still can't figure it out. I still remember the past events she told me when she was a child. In the red revolution of the 1960s and 1970s Online Cigarettes, our family suffered from the "component" problem, but every time she finished, she always smiled a little Cigarettes Online. Sighed: "The days are now falling into the honey pot." Now she can no longer enjoy the life in this "honey pot", only the mound called "grave" indicates that she has been here. world. The night before I went, I went to her grave to accompany her for a while. My mother told me to take a straw and smash it Carton Of Cigarettes. I did it. A person stands in front of the grave at night, it is the tranquility of his hometown, only the unknown bird in the distant ravine blows into my ear with the evening wind, watching the flames dissipate a little, reddish The ashes in the evening wind burst into a wave of black and red waves, so staring at the pile of ashes, a little bit completely into the arms of the night, until the mother's voice came from the ear Parliament Cigarettes, suddenly found the sky A few unknown stars have already emerged, but my eyes are already blurred. There is only one. Perhaps it is only the pain of life and death, and the bitterness of day and night, I will understand that the end point has never been far away from us. I suddenly hated the weather of the four seasons in the south of the Yangtze River. It made me forget the change of the four seasons, forgot the flow of time, watching the waters of the small river rise and fall again and again, increasing my fear of the end.
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