Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn over, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones.
That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
– Haruki Murakami, Kafka On The Shore
Haruki Murakami writes so damn beautifully, I can’t. If you’re a fan, read this!
Sorry guys… I’m just so, so tired. I have a million things to write about, it’s like they’re just there, on my mind, but oh my god physical and mental exhaustions are apparently very real, indeed. Ugh, it sure feels like any time I release a Timeout promising to write about stuff – they never happen. Not gonna do any of that anymore… I’ll get to replying comments soon too, promise!