“And you’re alone, but not lonely.”
It was still early, and they were the only customers in the bar. Music from a jazz trio played softly in the background.
“I suppose,” Tsukuru said after some hesitation.
“But you can’t go back now? To that orderly, harmonious, intimate place?”
He thought about this, though there was no need to. “That place doesn’t exist anymore,” he said quietly.
– Haruki Murakami,
Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Brand new and hard-friggin’-copy. Mine. So happy.
This one is good. I feel the ache, like waves that repeatedly crash through and recede, deep down to the core of my heart.
It’s really, really good.