Posts Tagged ‘Kafka on the shore’

travel the world or how i met murakami

Tuesday, July 5th, 2016

They say that if you really want to, you can just pack one day and leave. Any voyage is unique, they say. It’s something which you should do now, at this age, otherwise you might never get a second chance. It’s something that you were given the chance to do, while others were not that lucky. A chance is still a compromise. It’s not a gift, as long as it comes with a now or never.
It’s fabulous. It’s new, it’s extravagant! We’re the center of attention and the violence around us takes human shape.
It all slows down around us, moving in slow motion as we keep running, with our velvety hearts hidden inside a tin carcass pulsating on the rhythm of drums, almost like growing bigger and bigger, ready to push out of our chests. We melt a little each day, and we shyly flicker like the winter’s sun, trembling like a ship who just survived a storm at sea, like a tree blooming after a hard cold winter, small, frail buds on every branch bravely opening one after another, exposing its soul to a yet weak sun.
The line of the heart has been drawn a long time ago: Bucuresti -Tokyo.
I was standing, reading Murakami’s ” A wild Sheep Chase” while waiting for my train in of one of Bucharest’s busiest subway stations. Just your average Wednesday morning, on my way to work. When finally the train enters the station with a considerable 10 minutes delay, i close my book and say to myself: This would never happen in Tokyo! (more…)

K(a)wai-to!

Saturday, March 7th, 2015

“A dark omnipresent pool of water{…}
The world is a huge space, but the space that will take you in-and it doesn’t have to be very big- is nowhere to be found.
You seek a voice , but what do you get?Silence. You look for silence, but guess what?
All you hear over and over again is the voice of this omen….And sometimes this prophetic voice pushes a secret switch hidden deep inside your brain.Your heart is like a great river after a long spell of rain, spilling over its banks. All signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away by that rush of water. Ands still the rain beats down on the surface of the river. Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself : That’s it. That’s my heart”