Review of the movie "In a hurry that year"

After watching "In a hurry that year". How many people remember the girl who only smiled at you and cried because she was in a hurry ... When you think of her, will you giggle and feel lonely ... After watching Hurry. How many people still remember the dormitory buddies who shared weal and woe, smoked cigarettes and got drunk in the passionate campus ... When you think of them, can you easily tell us the most embarrassing things ... Don't regret your dreams, just hate being in a hurry. Excerpt from "In a hurry that year" as a memorial-the love I lost in a hurry that year, just as I sang in a hurry that year. "If goodbye can't red eyes, whether can blush. Just like that year, I hurried by, and I was engraved together forever, such a beautiful rumor. " Light a cigarette and I lie quietly on the sofa. Listening to the ending song of "That year in a hurry" from the speaker, I feel depressed.

The plot in the movie is vivid, and I am completely integrated into the hero's soul, recalling his past and mine. Feel his feelings and chase my sadness.

I remember it was the winter of 20 15, near the Spring Festival. After two years away, I returned to my hometown. This is where I grew up. I have friends who share weal and woe here. Here, it is also the beginning of my beautiful love, and more importantly, the grave of my love vows.

After a night of train fatigue, I finally saw the familiar station, the dilapidated overpass, the waiting room with red bricks and tiles, and the constant shouts at the exit. I'm back. ...

It was cloudy that day, as if there was going to be a snowstorm. My mood is like the weather. Two years of wandering life, I still can't forget, I once sprinkled a handful of ashes on this land. Two years ago, when I left this station, I discarded the ashes of my burning love fruit along the way.

They were not washed away by two years of rain, nor were they buried by two years of heavy snow. Only when I come back at this time, they are still quietly thrown on both sides of the road, struggling to cover up those happy and painful memories. Sitting in a taxi to my friend's house, my mood is gloomy, too.

When the taxi passed by the court, the stately and towering office building of the court reminded me of her home, in the neighborhood opposite the court. Looking at the familiar community, I clearly remember the house number of each building in the community and the seats for people to rest.

Drive through this neighborhood and watch every familiar building pass by. It's like going back to those years. After seeing her home every night, I secretly walked along this road, looking at the buildings next to each other and humming a little song about myself.

My friend's house is opposite to my high school. I asked the driver to pull himself to the school gate. Standing outside the school gate, watching the students doing morning exercises on the playground, watching the familiar grass and trees, and listening to the familiar athletes' March. All this, like the reincarnation deliberately arranged by fate, brought me here after nine years. ...

In those hurried times, there was a saying.

"When we were young, it always made no difference at first. It hurts in the end. When we grow up, we may avoid childish injuries, but we also miss the initial courage. "

When I arrived at a friend's house, I felt very warm, just the two of us. Two grandfathers got a table of dishes, a box of beer and a bottle without a cup in each hand, and chatted about their interesting stories in the past two years. Two years have passed, although there are few telephone calls between us, the feelings between friends are getting deeper and deeper with time.

Such unbridled, so hearty, so in distress situation. Being in a different place, you can't tell anyone. Just like the lost love, firmly rooted in the heart, set up a memorial tombstone. I can't vent to anyone, I can't sow any other seeds, I can only watch quietly, and the land in my heart is barren.

That night, we didn't know how much wine we drank or what we talked about. In short, I finally got drunk and made a mess of the house. When drunk, I only remember to take out my mobile phone and look at that familiar and unfamiliar number for a long time. Finally, I fell asleep with my mobile phone, and I don't know if it was typed. Later, my friend told me that the phone was dialed out, but it was gone.

The next day it snowed innocently, covering every corner of the opposite campus. In the morning, I woke up and went to the balcony. I looked at the big snowflake falling outside the window and lit a cigarette. Remember, that day of that year, it snowed so heavily. It's so big that people can't see clearly when they walk outside, and that's why I met her.

Thinking about the scene at that time, looking at that place on campus. Unconsciously, I smiled, so sad, so heartache, so timid. Sadness is lost, but it is regretted. Heartache is irreparable, but I don't want to let go after all. Two years of cowardice has not been forgotten, and two years later, cowardice can still be clearly remembered.

Yes! When we were young, we walked boldly in the street hand in hand, always remembering the vows in our hearts. When we were young, we were full of vigor and vitality, and the fire of love never burned out.

"If one day we get separated, will you stand in the same place and wait for me?"

"I will, I will always wait for you in the same place."

When we grew up, we separated and shuttled around different people. We can't find the origin and blur the concept of eternity. I used to think that I had been in the same place and never left. But in the end, I was wrong. I have left your sight with the drift of the continental plate.

The snow outside the window buried the footprints left by pedestrians, covered the bottom of my heart, and once walked together. The campus is still the same, but nine years have passed. Here, it used to be the shed area for my emotional growth, which provided me with the temperature and sunshine, the environment and atmosphere for growth.

After breakfast, my friend drove me to the familiar park. Trees are covered with silver shirts, pedestrians are in a hurry, and they have no intention of lusting after this monotonous white landscape. Only me, standing under the stone gate of the park, in a daze. Pursuing the laughter left on the secluded path, looking for the love fragments left behind.

If the past is still worth nostalgia, why should I stay away from it for two years and be persistent and unwilling to change? If the past is not worth nostalgia, why does it make me suffer again and again? I often dream about that year. That number comes to mind from time to time.

Unwilling to give up or remember. Not forgetting, but we buried her deeply in our hearts. Buried in the darkness that we don't want to be excavated. When I came to a familiar area, even if I tried to hide it again, I couldn't help touching it.

This is the love that we lost in a hurry that year. I'm too deep to extricate myself.

For example, the last sentence in "In a hurry that year".

I don't regret dreaming, but I hate rushing.

On the way back to my friend's house, when I passed by the door of her community, I saw the tall figure holding an umbrella in the heavy snow, and the long black hair still hung casually behind my back. ...

This is the first time I know what love is, but I have lost it.