chaimae’s Reviews > The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle > Status Update

As a new HM reader am indecisive about my next reading, either this one or NW. How did you find it so far?

Judging from your recent updates, i see you’ve already taken your decision and chosen your next read. Still, i won’t mind expressing what i thought.
Although i’m on page 620 something, it’s still hard to give a fair and proper judgment on the book, especially since Murakami’s novels are one of those books you never know when they hit you. They’d penetrate you so hard but you’d never be sure when it happened, and maybe was it building up throughout the whole book, maybe was it through one sentence or one paragraph, maybe was it something you didn’t realize before putting the book aside (it was only after finishing south of the border west of the sun that it actually hit me).
To answer your question, it’s so far a good book. it takes you down a well (literally), you meet strange characters with strange names, it’s literally a murakami book, it’s strange. Haruki murakami is a strange man, when i read his books i wonder what kind of head does he carry on his shoulders, is he living in a world anywhere near ours?
It’s a good book. i’m not done with it and there’s a huge possibility i’ll hate it by the end of it, but that ig is what makes a book worth reading.

chaimae wrote: "Judging from your recent updates, i see you’ve already taken your decision and chosen your next read. Still, i won’t mind expressing what i thought.
Although i’m on page 620 something, it’s still ..."

Well, I couldn't wait for your reply any longer so :P
I read south of the border west of the sun a few weeks ago as my introduction to Murakami and I have to say that you're absolutely right about that. The book hit me like a ghost train and left me stranded inside my thoughts at a certain point and I know exactly when and what line triggered the crash.
I agree, if I don't love a book or hate it with a passion to talk about it with other people or write about it then I've just wasted my time- time that could've been spent reading other remarkable books.
So, far am greatly enjoying the Murakami rollercoaster and can't wait to read basically... everything!
Let me know if you hated it or otherwise what you thought about it after digesting the whole experience.

I expect i’ll be over with The wind-up bird chronicle by tomorrow, and i’ll have to admit: i’m just as excited to know what i’ll think about it.
With most novels, after reading other writings of the author, you kind of unite with them, it’s like you become one person, their thoughts are unconsciously brought into you. They might become too predictable, seem too repetitive and lose the sparkle you expected them to conserve. With murakami, it’s not the same. as i travel through his books, i get at first the impression that i know it all, only to be faced by my own ignorance and await the moment he’ll hit, or it’ll hit.
My first murakami read was Kafka on the shore, me being attached mysteriously to Kafka, i had to read it. I’ll always look for something anywhere near that book and the way a singular feeling visits me when i think of it. I say you might love it, you might also hate it, either way you’ll have something to write or tell people about with a passion.

Yep, i have the same expression you talking about right now with NW that i know how this is going based on my previous read, tho i know am going to be slapped in the face soon enough. Interesting fact, i read somewhere that South of the border was an attempt to recapture the spark of NW so maybe it makes more sense why i feel that way.
You have your way with words and how you describe things. It's a shame you don't publish any reviews here, maybe in the future!

My first attempt to get into Murakami was also Kafka on the shore, It was some months ago. I started reading it with my ex, and halfway through we split up. Long story short, i haven't had the courage to pick it up from where I left it, it feels weird, so nowadays i just pretend Murakami never wrote Kafka; nevertheless, Kafka's time will surely come. From what i remember it was really good, too good to forever ignore.

i’ll have to admit i’ve never had a similar thing happen to me. Nevertheless i can easily picture what it feels like. Though i’ve never been a person to dive into emotions, i can very much imagine them in a dramatic way, sometimes to the point of ridiculousness, hence my ability of describing and phrasing things in a way or another.
You must have your own reasons to avoid Kafka on the shore, and wanting to give it a second chance is already a big step raging against this abandonment. I think Kafka on the shore is good book, it’s not a book to let be stained by a mere memory from the past, rather than being stained by it, Kafka will carry it as a unit of it, as a part of the strange world it unfolds. Think of it this way. again i might have missed a huge part of what makes it so hard to go back to. After all, everything is pretty strange and ridiculous if u let it unravel before your eyes….

Here she goes again and talks like a character from a book. I wonder if this is how you talk outside of goodreads.
If we were friends in rl all i'd do is shut up and let you speak them sentences but thats going very much off topic and it may have come off as a weird thing to say but i mean it as a compliment.
(Interesting enough the main character in NW been complimented the same way)
Kafka on the shore was definitely a weird novel and when i try to look at it the way you said, the strangeness of the book it self plus the unusual situation i found myself in would unify to create an intriguing read... some would argue it be too ridiculous not to embrace the whole experience.

I think part of the reason i didn't wish to go back to Kafka was that it may just serve as painful reminder of how much of a good time i had sharing the book with her. But again, someone who avoids suffering might already be dead for what is a life empty of suffering?

Over and done with The wind-up bird chronicle. Nevertheless, phrasing anything to sum up what i truly think of it seems unattainable. the ideas in my head are tangled and as i reach for the extremity of one string i find my hand stuck in the knot of another. idk if it’s the length of the book or the surreality of it.
Maybe was it the length: a book of 845 pages, any of which i could’ve read absentmindedly. Or maybe was it the surreality, Murakami exposes you to endless and nameless twirls of his imagination, he makes you meet strange personas, he HITS one hit after another, switches perspectives leaving a reality already saturated towards a literal labyrinth. never had i read such book before, a book where the lines between reality and everything surrounding it are so hard to decode, the string between them so thin and almost invisible to everyone but Haruki, i’m sometimes left to think that murakami must be struck by his own magic.
A book surrounded by fog is what i find most captivating. By the end of the book the fog is cleared, leaving the final picture (what you may hate or love with a passion). This book was one of those whose fog never clears up, it’s part of the picture. several things in this novel were left unanswered, as if any tentative of rephrasing the misunderstandings or the truths as we once perceived them were to be shallow, thus the fog won’t go away leaving clarity, it’ll do so only leaving stains on the surface.
i’ll have to think about it for a while tho, bc it’s also hard to surrender completely to what was given by the author.
The wind up bird chronicle was a good book after all, a labyrinthine story of an anybody near a nobody, a dive into the subconscious and the consequence of losing the ladder to reality, out of the well.

It seems like you enjoyed your read greatly. Am happy you could feel about it with such burning passion and it was a pleasure reading what you thought about it! You mentioned that several things we left unanswered; that is one of my favorite things about any kind of fiction. I love it when the writer gives me space to wonder. Thats why i hated the sequels of The Matrix. I finished Norwegian wood yesterday, if it had a different ending ( not sure if you read it so avoiding spoilers) it could've been a book i'll love with a passion. Thats said, it definitely hit and hit much harder than the previous one. And for than alone i will forever secretly love it.

Good to know you also enjoyed your experience with Norwegian wood, although one or two things you said about it made me believe you aren't totally satisfied with the way things turned out. I did have the intention of reading NW but unfortunately not a physical copy to encourage me to do so, Murakami books where i live are either nonexistent or hella expensive. I'm sure i'll come across it sometime and allow myself to surrender to Haruki's labyrinthine universes, I'm also sure one of the reasons to pick it up will be the Beatles' inspired title. I'm thinking about borrowing Sputnik sweetheart from the library tmrw, it's a short read yet an uncertain one, diving into it will be like plunging into the great unknown sea, with only my amazement by Murakami guiding me through the dark.
Real life is already strange and absurd enough, yet i always surprise myself craving for whatever drives me to the most extreme states of whatever's deep down what we're allowed to experience, far from the usual boundaries.

Am probably the only person i know who prefers reading on a laptop rather than a real book. I like the way i can easily save quotes, make notes and instantly have access to them. But that can just be my way to cope with the lack of English books in my city. Oh and lucky you, you can borrow books from libraries, that's just too good to exist here, a fantasy. I've never heard of the book you mentioned, i looked into it, and think it sounds really interesting although i never read an lgbt novel before. Is that a common thing in Murakami books where Women mysteriously disappear? lol
Whilst i never read 2 novels consecutively from the same author this time i feel a strong desire to stay in Japan so i thought I'd stay on the same shore and dive into Dazai's the setting sun tomorrow.
I do share those feelings of yours. Am always drawn to extremes and seek to explore the depths of my emotions and sensations, the good the bad, the ugly, and the weird.
Society has limitations or boundaries on what is considered acceptable to experience, this system works for most people but
there will always be some individuals who'd crave to break away from these constraints and desire to seek unique experiences that challenge the status quo and offer a deeper understanding of oneself. This can just be the way we exercise our individuality, to prove we're conscious organisms with blood and flesh and not just piano keys. Our way to rebel against the absurdity of life.

Dazai is a man i’ll always feel a weird and translucent connection to, and it’s such a shame i haven’t read any of his novels yet. although the book you’re willing to read seems great, i feel more drawn to No longer human, a book he finished and chose death, some sort of suicide note.
I did borrow Sputnik sweetheart, and apparently it makes no exception to what Murakami tends to do, having women vanish suddenly and sometimes eternally. You’re not the only person ik who prefers digital copies, i have a lot of ordinarily inaccessible books in my phone’s library but i’m not very attached to online reading, i tend to appreciate traditional things better. as for the notes and any thoughts the book inspires inside of me, i keep them in a book as strange as its owner, it’s supposed to be a damn journal but it’s a mishmash of famous last words, book quotes and questions causing my insomnia. Did you know Kafka’s last words were “Kill me, or else you’re a murderer!”? Fact of the day.

Well, you’re drawn to extremes, aren’t you? I think Dazai’s No longer human will be your cup of tea. The novel is a raw and unflinching look at the depths of despair and the human psyche. It will hold your hand and take you in a downward spiral of intense emotions as the main character loses faith in humanity and succumbs to his own degradation. The feelings of losing hope in oneself, when one reaches the last wall, when life becomes too horrible and one believes it cannot be otherwise, the horrible cannot be undone, and if it were to be undone the self-hate has already grown to become a deadly tumor to the point one would do oneself intentional harm out of spite. It is depressing what societal expectations and personal demons can do to an individual's emotional and mental state. Whew, am surprised how i managed not to spoil anything ESPECIALLY about Dazai’s death, I’ll leave that for you to explore.

Damn Kafka didn’t have it easy did he? Imagine those would be your last words, what level of frustration and despair must he bore in his heart? Well, this adds a new level of gloominess to my yearly ritual of re-reading The metamorphosis; I assume you read it?

Poor girl, you’ve also fallen into the trap of acute consciousness haven't you? I’d like to hear about these questions causing you insomnia. I have some of my own…

Every single term you used to describe No longer human hits close to heart, every picture your words structured inside my imagination was familiar, is it something to worry about?
I’m afraid i’m not allowed to admit such things, and i’m afraid the impression of relating to such books is mostly forbidden, the suspicion of an imaginary eye accompanying my every move and every sensation - starting from the most unnatural euphoria towards the most horrendous despair, the ugliest unpleasantness and the disgust of breathing even -, an eye that belongs to certain authors and movie directors, an eye that offers my suffering for the creators to turn into something i’d find later on too relatable to be an outsider. Don’t you feel naked when facing particular texts, doesn’t the author’s spirit feel like a hand buried inside your being, touching the furthest corners of your inner darkness?
I did read the metamorphosis (duh), and i only confirmed your assumption to later affirm that it’s one of those novels that not only haunt you, but feel like something you once lived, like an autobiography to some people. I’ve come across a lot of people lately who view the novel as some sort of fantasy, as a boring fable or -if they went a bit further with their thoughts - a slow boring unoriginal telling of a death. I do make some jokes about it too, whenever i see a fat insect or something i’m like oh that’s Greg Samsa or some shit but deep down i feel like an insect sometimes and crave for the moment i’ll be smashed. haha jk.
My yearly kafka ritual is reading Kafka’s letter to his father, oh goodness how that book crashes me.
I tried to remember some cool morbid last words for the fact of the day but i recalled the ending of a book i’d like to read, guess it. "Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on."

Yes! you are not allowed to feel such forbidden sensations, tell this thing you just told me to your mom and she'd send you to a lunatic asylum no kidding awla shi raqi (even worst). This is one of those thoughts keeping me awake at night, that i shall not reveal myself fully to others -if i do, i know the kind of looks I'd get. But to hell with them!
There is a certain point after becoming too conscious about your own existence, you can no longer return to what you once were. You yourself may sometimes envy the people you see around you with a "healthy" amount of consciousness but would you want to become like them? trade the self-awareness you accumulated for oblivious happiness? No, you won't. Or at least, I won't.
So, should you be worried about relating to what I said? Maybe, maybe not. What's the point? Life is inherently absurd anyway. I mean we live in a world where no one is in it by their own wish, it doesn't get any more absurd than that. And if we experience life only once, the audacity i should have to not let myself overdose on immense pleasure from my own suffering! I say let it get even more absurd! That said being too conscious has a heavy mf tax which is... can you guess?
"starting from the most unnatural euphoria towards the most horrendous despair, the ugliest unpleasantness and the disgust of breathing even" i kid you not i read this line, i smirked and said: ok this goes into my book if i ever write one.

Whew.

The metamorphosis a fantasy? a boring tale? unoriginal? hhhhhhhhhhhh
Where do you meet such sad souls? these are the people i mentioned above, i can't put into words exactly what they lack but am sure it's something to be accumulated and not easy to acquire. Letters to his father is long overdue with me, would you write me something about it that would make me read it soon :p?
I had no idea where that quote is from until i googled it, but how do you know it if you didn't read the book? its funny i asked you to guess something only to find out you too have done so hhhhh (yes i read in parts)

Ngl the craving to be smashed is the horniest thing i read this year so far.

These msgs are getting longer and longer lol

Comments*

Self awareness or joyful oblivion? knowing too much to want to live or not knowing enough to feel the ridiculous nature of your own existence? the answer to such question is impossible to put into words, it inspires me some sort of frustration, makes me want to scream at how the world is absurd. the choice between these two things is simply impossible in my opinion, it’s like being on a boat in the dark, not knowing how to swim and having a wave come from each side towards you, ready to ravage. I think the question isn’t reasonable in the first place: it’s a question you only realize it exists after choosing self awareness, after your mind is a storm, a fire you feed and try to save yourself from. you’re only conscious of the oblivion you left after leaving it, after the picture builds up. And as you said, in your dissatisfaction with what self consciousness feels like and turns you into, it’s still impossible to put a step back and dive into blindness again.
i also say take life as a joke, laugh at how stupid you are and wait for the moment it ends.
Letter to his father was painful but beautiful, the complexity of despising someone so close to you as your father, the feeling of being a no one in front of the being who is supposed to make you a man. kafka, anything by kafka is devastating enough, but that letter was just something beyond wounding…a letter Hermann Kafka lived without reading, free from the weight of his deed.
Shit i couldn’t guess the mf tax and google doesn’t offer the service. tell me tho.
I came across the last sentence of the Unnamable coincidentally, one of the quotes i write in my strange little notebook, so i remembered it.
(And so bold of you to assume the desire of being smashed is anywhere near “horny”, honestly bro yk better *up and down look*)
Not last words but Edvard Munch said: From my rotten body, flower shall grow, and i am in them and that is eternity. Fact of the day.

The fact that his father never read the letter adds another layer of complexity to this “story”. Am sort of relieved tho he didn’t die keeping this a secret locked within his heart undisclosed. I never really got deep into Kafka’s life but a had a generalized idea about his troubled relationship with his father. Thank you for the introduction, I’ll def read it sometime in the future.

Taking life as a joke… thats definitely something to ponder about.

Today I came across a quote that made me instantly decide which book am reading next. The quote goes: “You know, it’s quite a job starting to love somebody. You have to have energy, generosity, and blindness. There is even a moment, in the very beginning, when you have to jump across a precipice: if you think about it you don’t do it.”
It made me contemplate for quite a bit why we pick a specific person and choose to love them. Is love just an evolutionary instinct that compels humans to breed so we don’t get extinct? If that’s so, should we embrace this love as a part of the human experience and surrender to nature, or should we reject nature and strive to conquer our humanity?
Most people choose (by default, they never think about any of this) to embrace their instincts and view love as an essential part of the human experience, while a minority will think about rejecting them as a form of primitive behavior that should be overcome. I kinda almost formed a satisfying answer for myself but would like to hear your input.

The cost of having heightened self-awareness is eternal loneliness. The loneliness from being monstrously misunderstood. The more one understands and reflects on their own existence, life, thoughts, and emotions, the more one feels separate from others and unable to fully connect with them. This of course leads to feelings of isolation and alienation. Chances we'd find somebody who'd understand and embarrass us with such unusual notions is the same as me ever reading a "self-help" book. Isn’t it strange and frustrating to feel lonely between 8B people on earth?
So absurd and feed the burning fire inside of you at your own risk!

Am sorry to have disappointed your expectations, I’ll work on disappointing you even further whenever I get the chance (y) but in the meanwhile here is a little riddle i wrote for you to make up for that (i got inspired by my previous paragraph so take the theme of loneliness as a hint):

I am a p………r of the highest renown
I declared the death of g..s and brought it down
I dared to look beyond morality
My thoughts are eternal, my words, so bold
Am the prophet of the U........h
Teenagers misunderstand and mistake me for another man
My lover betrayed me with my friend
Seeking the truth is what i recommend
Who am I?

i’m afraid my personal thoughts and beliefs concerning love are very few, and even the reason i don’t think about it much hasn’t been in my thoughts. i view love as something secondary, especially in this time of my life, something unnecessary and a luxury i’m far from seeking. my shortest and most effortless reflection on love would be saying it’s ridiculous, betraying and somewhat a waste of energy. i wouldn’t go as far as saying love is a principle to rebel against, it’ll accompany humanity and as you said keep it from losing its individuals, it’s a sensation or rather an illusion no one seems ready to abandon, and as you said it’s been so part of our own being - sometimes without our consent- to a point where it’s rare to put it in question. i wouldn’t embrace it with such oblivion tho, as soon as i’m not participating in what love may be, i’m raising myself above this supposed instinct and only declare myself as a spectator. After all, my knowledge and experience in the matter is limited. if the term “love” suggested anything in my mind, it would be foggy, incomplete and contradictory. i’d like to hear your own “satisfying” thoughts now.
And god you’re right about the loneliness part, the isolation from the outside world. It’s hard to distinguish between when i’m choosing deliberately to be alone because i feel the instinctive urge to do so and when i do it out of some sort of disgust, sometimes because of a moment of anger where i feel my being transform into an individual of another species, a ghost-like human that is surrounded by people like someone is surrounded by flames. sometimes the separation from people reaches a point where i despise everyone and fail to make anyone an exception. it’s very clear how the fault cannot be outside of me, i’m very conscious of it and of the impossibility of making it otherwise, still i’m always wondering what went wrong with me, always wondering what’s going on.
I think i have an answer for your riddle, isn’t it Nietzsche? first word is philosopher, second is gods, last one is Ubermensch or sum. Man that’s too easy.
Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home? something so enigmatically expressed by Cioran. have u ever read anything by this man?

What went wrong a Chaimae is you have dedicated yourself to the search for truth but cannot bear the sight of what you have discovered. If we cannot embrace our own aloneness, we will simply use the other as a shield against isolation. That is basically how most friendships nowadays work. Look at it this way, at this point in your solitude you must have created a beautiful garden inside of you, somewhere you can turn to whenever your surroundings and life become unbearable. You can still try to step outside your aloneness when you like-can-see fit but if it doesn’t work out at least you still have your garden. It is through facing these emotions head-on that we can gain insight and find strength (although it may not seem like it because its gradual). Embracing these moments of silence and stillness, rather than trying to avoid them, can help us develop our individuality. To grow stronger one must sink deep into nothingness and learn how to face the loneliest nights.
That said, solitude becomes too loud and the garden seems dull when you have absolutely nobody to turn to, in this case, solitude may become plain suffering. Making and maintaining a friendship is a hard job in itself and when you add in all other factors of internal and existential struggles it becomes too hard. Am not much of a believer but if I had to pray not to die alone I would. One more thing, can you do me a selfish favor? would you please not be too harsh on yourself? It’s strange, i feel deep sadness and compassion when i see someone struggle internally and be merciless on themselves yet i still treat myself like an… i was about to say an animal but actually, i treat animals with absolute delicacy and care, a more accurate comparison would be a disposable cup of coffee. In any case, it seems like you need a hug. Open your arms, a virtual one is coming your way (i need it too).
How i see love is a sort of progression like ascending a ladder, the first step is bodily love, an infatuation with the body. This step is heavily influenced by nature and the task assigned to us to reproduce, this love is shallow and sadly many people stay in this stage, they tend to overlook the personality because they are attractive, but once they spend enough time with that “body” it becomes a normal state of affairs that why they “fall out of love” and suddenly they find themselves stuck in a failing relationship. Naturally, the next step would be the love of the mind or personality, this is where it becomes interesting because no matter how much a person’s personality is compatible with yours, nobody is going to spend their life with you if you look like Dobby so a mixture of the two steps is what the people who ascend the ladder settle with when forming romantic relationships. This brings us to the term “love”. What I think about “love” now has changed drastically over the years. We are told since our childhood that love is a burning sensation, almost a magical one, and you should expect these heightened emotions to persist intently throughout the course of your life, whenever you don’t feel this way anymore you should break up. I believe this concept to be flawed and unreliable. Nowadays, how i would define “love” (and it is necessary to have ascended to step 2) is a sort of deep appreciation for the other person, the time you spent together, the memories you made, and the demons of yours they had to put up with. This way you’d never “fall out of love” because what you have is more than “love”, more than two people craving to possess one another. What you end up with this way is a mutually beneficial passion of searching together for some higher truth, a companionship. I’d like to add one last thing linking this subject to the previous one concerning loneliness. Only when we can live alone with no audience whatsoever can we turn to another in love, if we are unable to give up the companionship of another person, the companionship is doomed. That's why a period of solitude is very important; it teaches us how to stand on our own, to build resilience and independence.
I could touch on the subject of reproduction but am afraid i’d be boring you if i stretch this message any longer. Did you find what i came up with satisfying?

No, i haven’t yet read anything by Cioran, i read to Schopenhauer tho, and from what i understand they seem to agree on a lot of things, especially about life being an undesirable state, am i right? I look at life as a spark between two voids; the void before our existence and the one after death. We tend to focus a lot on the latter and forget about the darkness we are bound to go back to after the spark of our life vanishes. Many don’t realize they are the same void. I think it goes without question at this point that we both agree all there is after life is nothingness, no?

Okay okay I gave you waaaaay too many hints. Last time, I chose Nietzsche for the riddle because this conversation we're having is sort of reminiscent of the kinds of talks Nietzsche had with Lou (be ready for a sudden marriage proposal anytime now).
Ok, here is another one then:

I wrote with a pen in my hand
Am a master of psychological insight
My tales are of suffering and despair
But also of love and redemption
Through my works, you'll find the darkest parts of man
And the struggles that he must understand
Who am i?

Here i detected a point where our opinions diverge. Nothingness after life is a pretty fascinating idea, it fascinates me with how everything IS now and WILL BE until it stops being, it drowns me in a state i can never translate into words - as my heart is weakened at this very moment to the single thought of it - the concept is there, it haunts my nights and it’s one that causes my insomnia, it’s a question no one is ready to answer nor ready to face in the first place. Yet we’re placed before it, it’s the inexorable, the inescapable, what’s awaiting us all. See what wouldn’t permit me to let the tornado that is the question of what is beyond existence absorb me is my belief, contrary to what you made me believe on your account, i’m one who tries to be close to God, it’s the way i was raised and though it’s never impossible to rebel against it, i’m comfortable with the idea of being sheltered under islam. If existence were to be a never ending deep well, my belief will be perhaps the one to send the ladder, it’s a reassurance. As weak easily-shaken people, it’s better to believe in God and die to find out there’s none, than to live without God and die only to realize a higher Being was over you all along, so if we ever came to die and found no God, it wouldn’t be so hard to digest, for no one will punish us for missing a higher revelation or going against what was meant for us.
As you’re reading this, you must’ve probably detected contradictions in what’ve been saying all along, will i be able to justify them or excuse myself for being so indecently lost in the storm of existence? No, because it’s a state beyond my power. From a side, i’m supposed to be a believer, a sweet innocent teenage girl who sees nothing but supposedly sensed things, a persona i’ve never been able to meet: instead i’m in the body of a girl with the soul of a ghost or the soul of a dead-alive man. From another side, i feel like a nobody, i feel my past reassurances losing efficiency in front of the absurdity of life, i feel slightly dissociated from reality: one foot is here, the other there and the rest of me nowhere. As long as i’m alive, i’ll everlastingly surrender to the duality, it’s also way beyond my power. As long as i’m alive, in the supposed state of existence, a side of me will always be nothing, a side of me will feel comfort in nothingness. Man, what the hell is going on? (suddenly feeling like a hesse character, have u ever read steppenwolf btw?)

Quote of the day will be from Sputnik sweetheart, it’s in french:
“Chaque aube, chaque crépuscule continuera à m’arracher petit à petit morceaux de moi-même, jusqu’à ce que mon existence se consume entièrement dans le courant du temps, jusqu’à ce qu’il ne reste plus rien de moi.”

Existence is one topic i can never get enough of, i can talk about it for hours until i faint (haha), yet whenever the sudden provocation of religion pops up in my head, all intention to untangle the absurd nature of existence misses taste, it turns into guilt, i stop abruptly and lower my head to what i think to be Great. Maybe that is exactly what being a believer is, surrendering to a certain figure rather than falling to an eternal fall. I’m not saying any of this to have you affirm anything, i’m somehow not waiting for an answer on this behalf, because it was something i said out of pure sincerity, not a cry for help nor anything else.

I did find what you put up satisfying, i also appreciate everything you said, and i enjoyed reading it of course. I’ve been hearing about a certain book called The Egg, i looked it up on here only to realize you’ve read it, it seems like the book that’ll deform my existence even more, it’d be lovely if you told me anything u can about it. Thanks in advance.

As for the riddle, i’m not sure i’ll be able to answer. You really made sure to make it harder this time. it’s not extremely hard but here’s the thing: all the authors i know and have come up with are like this, its what i mostly read. One side of me wants to say Dostoevsky, i can’t be sure tho. Don’t give me the answer if you wish to stretch the amusement, give a hint or two maybe.

(idk if i’m dumb but i just figured out for a second, these are literal comments and can be read by anyone tf)

Sadly for our ghost readers, their entertainment ends here. They will never know if i proposed or not, much like Murakami's novels some questions must be left unanswered.