[The Phantom of the Opera] Boundary Bridge

Eric fell into the hallucination of fatigue, and the strong tinnitus made him unable to feel his own singing.Does that song still exist?Still be deprived?He doesn't know.He just sang like a deaf man.

How does one realize one's own existence?Is it the firm cognition of the soul, or the feedback given by the outside world?Many people think that they can do the former, but in the end they often find that what they really rely on is the latter.When the two deviate from each other, no matter how determined people are, they can't wait to fall to the latter side and to the feedback from the outside world, no matter how absurd and ridiculous it is.

People can't always live independently, they must be recognized by the society, and must be affirmed by others.Eric once thought that his singing could only be used to satisfy himself, but after strangling the channel of communication with the outside world with his own hands, he began to panic again.Is what he sang really a natural sound?Why the eerie silence of the bystanders?If, if no one can hear his singing, what is his existence?Is he just a dream or hallucination?Is the sound of nature just a fake, never existed?

At this time, as long as someone stood in front of him and said to him, "I heard, you sang very well", it was enough for Eric to fall down in front of him and burst into tears.

He continued this painful vision for a long time again, neither day nor night, nor true and false.Sometimes he is blind, sometimes deaf, sometimes dumb.He experienced almost every kind of cruelty in the world in the hot hallucinations, and when his singing was deprived of his own cognition, he no longer knew what he was.

His confidence and cognition were destroyed, and he desperately longed for something called|love to help him rebuild.

What is he without singing?What is true and what is false?If he himself can't confirm the real existence of this song, confirm its magnificence and majesty, ups and downs and treacherousness, where does his inferiority complex come from?Is that ridiculous rootless duckweed?He has lost confidence in his music, he has deviated from his personality, he is at a loss for his existence... he doesn't know why he is suffering from this.

"Maybe this is just a test of love." He thought hard, trying to push everything to the most powerful excuse.That is a set of strange cognitions he established from the theater at a very young age, because love can explain and explain everything.Love is good and forgives all things.As long as it is in the name of love, it seems that everything is fine.

"Love, love," he murmured.It seems to have found another pillar, another meaning.

"Soul, soul," he said again.Gouging out the bones of love, gouging out the heart of music, what is his soul?What is hidden in his body?What constitutes him, what makes him base, brilliant, and great?

soul.

Only the soul.

"My soul." Eric murmured, there seemed to be a hint of a smile on his lips, as comfortable as being immersed in warm water, "my soul."

He suddenly felt that he could accept each other with this self again, and suddenly felt that he recognized all the truth and understood the most important things.So he was so moved that tears filled his eyes, and he was so happy that he couldn't add more.

Love is for the salvation of the soul's sins.

Singing is to guide the solitude of the soul.

……

His soul, whether it is dedicated to love, or the unique soul brewed by singing.There is also a strange fragrance in the rotten stench, mixed into a kind of intoxicating and strange breath.However, that is his soul.

If a person has a sufficiently tough and clear soul, he can bear all the sufferings in life, whether it is related to love or dreams.Eric knew Enid had such a soul, but he didn't.But never mind.

He can fill his soul with love, he can call his soul with song.He can no longer be barren and humble, no longer cowardly and cold, he can recognize his true self and understand what he wants.

His singing should not be sacrificed, but used to express himself and stretch the soul.

His love should not be full of desperate despair and weak and unspeakable attachment, but should be the sincere attraction and admiration of the soul, inspired by beautiful qualities.

His disability should not be self-made, and his face is only the most useless kind of salvation.The real salvation lies in the heart, in the narration of the majestic singing and the confidence of true love.

He understood, and now he understands everything.

……

He had done something wrong, but it might not be too late to correct it now.

Eric went from being ecstatic to falling into the abyss of self-loathing, and from regretting to crying with joy.He seemed to experience a new life, and it was like falling into hell to suffer.He seemed to be trapped. In the dark underground, he called the witch's name again and again, asking for his own singing voice.

Yet there was no answer.

All senses were magnified in the darkness and silence, and Eric gradually became panicked. He wondered if he understood it too late, so that he had already been abandoned?But no matter how despicable and cowardly he is, he still has a soul after all!After all, I am eager to express and tell, to love and be loved, that deep and passionate love!

He regretted it more and more.

……

I don't know how long it has been.

"I love her, I love her." He murmured to himself, almost stupidly, as if giving himself the last courage and faith, "I love her...I really love her. I am a fool, I will I'm only now finding out about it. But I love her..."

He didn't say her name, because it was too dark and cold here, and he hid that name in his heart like a treasure, it illuminated his courage, his sobriety and light.

His love was once parasitic on light, and cuteness itself should be light.His singing voice once flattered the beauty, but his soul itself should be more worthy of his own treasure than all things.Eric desperately wants to get his singing voice back, like crazy.

He has to redeem his past mistakes and expose all the truth.

The song that was taken away was his soul and bridge, and he had to take it back to be whole again.And only the complete self can happily ask for her love, accept her, meet her again, and rejoice.

"Witch... witch!" he yelled for countless times.

He didn't expect a response at first, but suddenly a stone rolled into the pool with a cool sound.Then, he heard the metallic voice.The eerie and piercing old female voice that started it all.

"What do you want from me?" asked the witch.

"I want my singing voice back," Eric replied.

When he said this, his heart was full of joy and joy, like an unstoppable rush.This will be the end of everything, and this will be the beginning of everything.He will be born again, he will know himself.

Maybe he has to pay some price for repentance, it doesn't matter, he is willing.Of course he knows that there is no free lunch in the world, but by chance, he has already recognized his heart and knows what is the most important.So what are you afraid of losing?Eric thought.His thoughts fly lightly, like white clouds, and like birds with fine fluff.

At this moment he really felt happy, he was extremely happy.

But the next moment happiness turned into a nightmare.

"No." The witch replied with a hoarse voice and a wicked smile. "With me, there is no turning back."

Eric was a little flustered, and he tried to calm down.

"I am willing to exchange other things, everything I have, as long as you like it." He said, "Take back my appearance, and you can take away anything else... All I want is my singing voice, that's mine soul."

And love, of course—he thought.But he has truly believed that love has nothing to do with appearance, and the love he wants to pursue is so full and clear that he must use a complete soul to undertake it.As long as he has the singing of the soul and the beautiful love, what is he afraid of losing?What can he not lose?Eric thought.

"Besides," he added, "I remember when we first traded, you said you had to cut the black ribbon to get back. Where's the black ribbon? Is it still around my neck? ’ he said, reaching out to touch it.

Of course he couldn't touch it, and he couldn't touch it after trying many times.

The witch watched his actions silently, and smiled again on her withered lips.

"Of course you can't touch it." She said triumphantly, showing her crooked and missing teeth. "From the moment you put it on, it has been integrated into your flesh and blood and soul, and you can never take it off again."

Eric was shocked and angry when he heard that he had been deceived.

"But—" the witch ushered in a turning point in time, she still walked slowly, not afraid of a little attack, because it was meaningless to her, "Sometimes, it can appear again."

"What is it?" Eric asked eagerly.

"It was your original wish." The witch replied, "Simply put, when you first tied it, what you thought about what you were going to do with it was your original wish. Only when you accomplish what you wanted to accomplish back then, when you get what you once wanted, will the black ribbon appear again, and you have the power to give up or continue."

She smiled: "It's fair, isn't it? Desire is always fair." But in Eric's eyes, every wrinkle in her hides a hint of sarcasm, "Only when you get what you once wanted, Only those who are qualified to judge whether it is worth it, and then choose to give up and continue. Isn’t this a very good thing?”

She said slowly again: "Those who have never obtained it are not qualified to choose to give up."

Eric was stunned for a moment, and then covered in cold sweat, he shouted loudly: "I already know if it's worth it! I want to give up now, I want my singing voice, and you can take whatever you want!"

The witch's voice became sweet and greasy: "Don't you even want to know what was the judgment of your first wish?" There was a deep malice hidden in that girlish sweetness, and it made people unable to see her age clearly for a moment.

Eric was sweating profusely, he closed his eyes and shook his head in pain.

But the witch's voice sounded again, in his ears, joy and joy, like pure happiness.That voice was sweet like a young girl's and treacherous like an old woman's.Or maybe he's gone mad and can't make out, but the words are so clear—

"It's Christian Daye's kiss of true love." The witch sang with a metallic voice, solemnly saying the word that is common in fairy tales but seems ridiculous in reality, making it more part Ironically, "It's her kiss. You give what the singing voice once longed for, the obsession in your mind, the purpose you exchanged with me."

"You have to get her 'kiss of true love' before the black ribbon will be active again. Then you will have a chance to choose again." The witch's dry lips opened and closed, Eric looked at her blankly, what? I can't hear you.

"—You can only choose between love and soul."

Her old, malicious face was magnified before his eyes, and her aquiline nose was almost in front of his lips, but there was no ambiguity.Those vicious and cruel eyes stared at his face, and a hateful and terrible laugh came out of his mouth.

Eric fell into an ice cave.

"Then, young man, tell me. What is your choice?" The witch said meaningfully.

She was not in a hurry, because she knew that what she was going to enjoy next was an all-night regional feast.

"What a cruel, cruel fate." She said with emotion.

And Eric was already panting heavily on the ground.

The witch closed her eyes and smiled amidst the man's broken cries.

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