These strange stories with the mark of the 1970s and 1980s are like old photos soaked in time, hiding the most solid human warmth in the folds of fantasy.
There is no thrilling weirdness, but every soul has the background of the times - it is the obsession to protect the collective property in front of the textile machine, the innocence in the supply and marketing cooperative guarding the account books, the sincerity to protect the sheep in the wind and snow, the love of holding the light and shadow in front of the film, and the benevolence of holding the herbs on the edge of the mountain cliff. Those symbols of a special era - brown coir raincoats, new ears of wheat, old film... Have become tokens connecting life and death, allowing the spirit of the deceased to live in the world in another way.
It turns out that strange things are never empty imagination, but a poetic expression of people's collective memory of kindness, perseverance, and dedication. When the dewdrops condense into clean marks, when the whistle awakens the sleeping hope, and when the screen reflects the love that spans time and space, we understand: those who have contributed to life, the collective, and others will never really leave. They turn into glimmers of light in the years, and in an inadvertent moment, quietly remind us of what is the original intention worth cherishing.
This is not a strange thing. It is clearly a spiritual epic written by a generation of people with their lives. It is endless in time.
