Haruki Murakami, Dance, Dance, Dance [excerpts]
If I were fifteen years old, I would have surely fallen for [him]. As fateful as the snow on rooftops come tumbling down in Spring.
---
Perfect. Peaceful. Periodicity.
---
She was truly a beautiful girl. I could feel a small polished stone sinking through the darkest waters of my heart. All those deep convoluted channels and passageways, and yet she managed to toss her pebble right down to the bottom of it all. If I were fiftenn, I'd have been a goner for sure, I thought for the twentieth time.
---
"You're not such a bad cook," Yuki said.
"No, not true. I just put my heart into it. That's the difference. It's a question of attitude. If you really work at something, you can do it, up to a point. If y ou really work at being happy, you can do it, up to a point."
"But anything more than that, you can't?"
"Anything more than that is luck," I said.
"You really know how to depress people, don't you? Is that what you call being adult?"
---
"Nobody seems to know how."
"And you do?"
"I'm waiting for the hints to take shape, then I'll know what action to take."
Yuki fingered the neck of her T-shirt. "I don't get it," she said.
"All you have to do is wait," I explained. "Sit tight and wait for the right moment. Not try to change anything by force, just watch the drift of things. Make an effort to cast a fair eye on everything. If you do that, you just naturally know what to do. But everyone's always too busy. They're too talented, their schedules are too full. They're too interested in themselves to think about what's fair."
---
I stood still, waiting not knowing what to do. Time evaporated. I peered into the darkness, ears alert. Slowly, uncertainly, the light filtering into the room seemed to increase. The moon? The lights of the city? I proceeded cautiously into the center of the space.
---
The silence that lingered then was so dense it was suffocating.
---
Softly, quietly, barely audible on the eaves. Almost silent as death.
---
Perfect. Peaceful. Periodicity.
---
She was truly a beautiful girl. I could feel a small polished stone sinking through the darkest waters of my heart. All those deep convoluted channels and passageways, and yet she managed to toss her pebble right down to the bottom of it all. If I were fiftenn, I'd have been a goner for sure, I thought for the twentieth time.
---
"You're not such a bad cook," Yuki said.
"No, not true. I just put my heart into it. That's the difference. It's a question of attitude. If you really work at something, you can do it, up to a point. If y ou really work at being happy, you can do it, up to a point."
"But anything more than that, you can't?"
"Anything more than that is luck," I said.
"You really know how to depress people, don't you? Is that what you call being adult?"
---
"Nobody seems to know how."
"And you do?"
"I'm waiting for the hints to take shape, then I'll know what action to take."
Yuki fingered the neck of her T-shirt. "I don't get it," she said.
"All you have to do is wait," I explained. "Sit tight and wait for the right moment. Not try to change anything by force, just watch the drift of things. Make an effort to cast a fair eye on everything. If you do that, you just naturally know what to do. But everyone's always too busy. They're too talented, their schedules are too full. They're too interested in themselves to think about what's fair."
---
I stood still, waiting not knowing what to do. Time evaporated. I peered into the darkness, ears alert. Slowly, uncertainly, the light filtering into the room seemed to increase. The moon? The lights of the city? I proceeded cautiously into the center of the space.
---
The silence that lingered then was so dense it was suffocating.
---
Softly, quietly, barely audible on the eaves. Almost silent as death.
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