Desire: Vintage Minis

by Haruki Murakami

‘I have no idea. Something happened, some nothing kind of thing, and we stopped hanging around together. I haven’t seen him since. I don’t know what he’s doing.’

Isnt that something that always happens when you organically lose contact. Such an accurately vague way to describe it.

And unless you, yourself, personally break the curse, it’ll stick with you like a toothache. It’ll torture you till you die.

There was something special about the sixties. That seems true now, in retrospect, but even when I was caught up in the whirlwind of it happening I was convinced of it.

Everything was simple, and direct. Cause and effect were good friends back then; thesis and reality hugged each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And my guess is that the sixties were the last time that’ll ever happen.

Convoluted, hidden motives started assimilating in our society after the 60s. If someone had to put a finger on characteristics of generations, this would be it !