Kafka on the Shore

Oshima’s shadow on the floor moves in time with his movements, though it’s slightly more exaggerated.

Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.

It’s all pointless – assuming you try to find a point to it. We’re coming from somewhere, heading somewhere else. That’s all you need to know, right?”

Anyway, my point is that it’s really hard for people to live their lives alone.”

Look – what I’m getting at is no matter who or what you’re dealing with, people build up meaning between themselves and the things around them. The important thing is whether this comes about naturally or not. Being bright has nothing to do with it. What matters is that you see things with your own eyes.”

Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing direction. You change direction, but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do

“Beethoven’s ‘Archduke Trio’.”

No canteen, no food. Not even the compass. One by one I left these behind. Doing this gives a visible message to the forest: “I’m not afraid any more. That’s why I chose to be totally defenceless.” Minus my hard shell, just flesh and bones, I head for the core of the labyrinth, giving myself up to the void.

She knows all kinds of things you’re clueless about, she’s experienced a range of emotions you’ve never felt. The longer people live, the more they learn to distinguish what’s important from what’s not.

“I never ask the impossible. That’s a colossal waste of time, don’t you agree?”