Le Musée poétic

For all these days it has been raining, from morning to night, sometimes heavy, sometimes light. I was crouching in the sofa, reading Hugo, a little difficult for my French. Taking out my notes, turning the pages, i suddenly found the words i wrote down before when i was reading Possession. There is one paragraph about Narcissus, which i personally believed true:

 " Still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans, it is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all."

    Yet it is this "image" that haunts most of us all our lives. We thought we were pursuing for this or that, but to the end we found that all was in vain; all was just like the moon in the mirror, the flower in the water. It is just the mirage of our lives. We have always been asking questions about our lives. Why we live? I don't know. We are just part of this world which we don't know exactly what it is. We have only 70 or 80 years to live. But we like pleasure, for our body and soul. Days ago I was reading Plato's Phaedo, which talked about death and life. Plato said that life and death were brothers. Living came from Dying and Dying was from Living. But our soul was the one thing that lived forever, no matter what kind of condition our body was. However, we don't know whether this is true because no one ever comes back from death. (I don't believe in Lazarus at all.) So what should we pay attention to while we are living? What is the use of happiness, pleasure, enjoyment, suffering, sorrow when all these are just the image of a phantom, who disappears as easy as the wind?

     Maybe we put too much into expectation. We are thinking too much. Striving for living, to keep a breath, that is the purpose of our lives? Or, to meditate, to look for the truth of the world? Happy or not , it's just our feeling. All is just a phantom.

  Set in Holland, with beautiful scenery like the painting of Van Gogh, daisies all over the field, small rivers running across the city, a touching sad love story began under the sun. With a good intention and a happy prospection, an unreqitted love started with lovely daisies for the young artist every day. A killer who lived in a world full of blood and death,  because of a bridge, found a new element in life. However, the bridge was set for another man, his rival, a policeman. The misunderstanding and the embarassing triangle relationship put the lovers into a dillima and the killer, who was sensitive and kind, buried his love even though he knew he had to kill the policeman, Zheng You.
   Of course he could not do so for the shake of Hui Zhen's happiness, but the reality could not satisfy people's simple wishes. With the death of Zheng You, the silent killer bore the secret himself with a feeling of guilty. As he said at last to Hui Zhen, " I just want to give back the happiness that belongs to you." He gave up all his hope and he, with the great love in his heart, could even give up Hui Zhen as long as she was happy with Zheng You.
   It was also a tragedy for Hui Zhen. The person she waited for so long time was the wrong person. I could not imagine what she felt when she saw the painting she gave to the person who built the bridge for her. Surprise or shock? Happy or regretful? When Zheng You last met her at her house, when she frapped the door behind Zheng You, the killer, her real lover, was at the edge of crying in the room. He was restraint himself, so collected. He didn't show his feeling until at the end, when Hui Zhen lay in his arms, with a weak breath, he was crying. It was as if his whole heart had broken.
   The touching one was the song at the end, combined all the feelings in the movie into one piece of music. Watching the movie, listening to the song, one could really feel the heart aching with the people in the movie, shaking with those innocent daisies.