A Wild Sheep Chase (The Rat, #3)

by Haruki Murakami

“So, everything’s different and you feel out of place?” “Not really,” I said. “It’s just that the chaos has changed shape. The giraffe and the bear have traded hats, and the bear’s switched scarves with the zebra.”

“Certainly. I get irritated, I get upset. Especially when I’m in a hurry. But I see it all as part of our training. To get irritated is to lose our way in life.”

As I stuffed the second piece of toast down my gullet, the pigeons disappeared, leaving only the telephone pole and the oleander.

For the present, let me say that I do not turn an uncomprehending ear toward your speech. I

Ear theyh knokw about the gf

“Don’t worry,” said the chauffeur. “I’ll take good care of him. I’m his godfather, you know.”

“Say,” she said, “doesn’t it seem like your body’s in a state of transit or something?” Now that she mentioned it, it actually did. She held my hand. “Let’s just stay like this. I’m worried.” “Okay.” “Unless we stay like this, we might get transported somewhere else. Someplace crazy.”

Yet the only thing he had over me was that he could play guitar, and the only thing I had over him was that I could wash dishes. Most guitarists can’t wash dishes. Ruin their fingers and there goes everything.

“Body cells replace themselves every month. Even at this very moment,” she said, thrusting a skinny back of her hand before my eyes. “Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.”