But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drank, the very air I breathed, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o’clock in the morning.
 Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (1997). copy citation

Author Haruki Murakami
Source The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Topic morning world loneliness
Date 1997
Language English
Note Translated by Jay Rubin

Meaning and analysis

write a note