This line popped in my head yesterday with no context whatsoever. Then I spent the next many hours trying to remember where I’d read it. The answer came just as suddenly. This line is from the book “Hear the Wind Sing” by Haruki Murakami.

I love how it evokes a sense of deep longing for the past. In many ways, I think this line is the essence of the entire novel. Time erodes away the humdrum reality from memories and leaves you with fragments of faded images. Nostalgia colors everything in warm hues of the sunset. When you revisit these flimsy translucent images, you yearn to be in them. A sweet ache; a dull craving to exist in that distorted universe. The prospects of disappearing into the fog of past, where nothing ever surprises.

The novel is beautiful in it’s entirety. I find myself rereading it during sunny afternoons as the tea is boiling and the laundry has been done.