[b]Haruki Murakami
What I was chasing in circles must have been the tail of the darkness inside me.[/b]
Either that or it’s chasing me.
When I was fifteen, all I wanted was to go off to some other world, a place beyond anybody’s reach. A place beyond the flow of time.
But there’s no place like that in this world.
Exactly. Which is why I’m living here, in this world where things are continually damaged, where the heart is fickle, where time flows past without a break.
Indeed, and it may well be applicable to all of us.
Symbolism and meaning are two separate things. I think she found the right words by bypassing procedures like meaning and logic. She captured words in a dream, like delicately catching hold of a butterfly’s wings as it flutters around. Artists are those who can evade the verbose.
So, does this sound like serious philosophy to you?
Let me tell you something, Mari. The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out from under you. And once that happens, you’ve had it: things’ll never be the same. All you can do is go on, living alone down there in the darkness…
Various shades of, among other things, pitch black.
Some things, you know, if you say them, it makes them not true?
Sure, either that or not false.
Inside that darkness, I saw rain falling on the sea. Rain softly falling on a vast sea, with no one there to see it. The rain strikes the surface of the sea, yet even the fish don’t know it is raining.
On the other hand, is it important that they do?