How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life.

I hope she'll be a fool—that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.

她们开心地为别人活着，没人留意她们所做出的牺牲。最后，炉上的小蟋蟀停止了甜美的歌唱，灿烂的阳光消逝，只留下了寂静和阴影。