Not just beautiful, though โ the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And theyโre watching me. What Iโve up till now, what Iโm going to do โ they know it all. Nothing gets past their watchful eyes. As I sit there under the shining night sky, again a violent fear takes hold of me. My heartโs pounding a mile a minute, and I can barely breathe. All these millions of stars looking down on me, and Iโve never given them more than a passing thought before. Not just the stars โ how many other things havenโt I noticed in the world, things I know nothing about?
Haruki MurakamiI just wanted to write something about running, but I realized that to write about my running is to write about my writing. It's a parallel thing in me.
Haruki MurakamiSitting on the floor, I'd replay the past in my head. Funny, that's all I did, day after day after day for half a year, and I never tired of it. What I'd been through seemed so vast, with so many facets. Vast, but real, very real, which was why the experience persisted in towering before me, like a monument lit up at night. And the thing was, it was a monument to me.
Haruki Murakami