Archive for October, 2008

Kafka on the shore

October 21, 2008

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 with you. This storm is you. Something inside you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plug in your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There is no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up in the sky like pulverised bones. That’s the kind of storm you need to imagine.

And you will have to make it through the violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red, blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive, you won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what the storm is all about.

On my fifteenth birthday I’ll run away from home, journey to a far-off town, and live in a corner of a small library.

Kafka on the shore – Haruki Murakami