murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

her, outside work, or sports. She had taken several courses: French,
knitting, piano, ancient history.
"Reiko is teaching me piano," she said. "She also teaches guitar. We
all take turns as pupils or teachers. Somebody with fluent French
teaches French, one person who used to be in social studies teaches
history, another good at knitting teaches knitting: that's a pretty
impressive school right there. Unfortunately, I don't have anything I
can teach anyone."
"Neither do I," I said.
"I put a lot more energy into my studies here than I ever did in
university. I work hard and enjoy it - a lot."
"What do you do after supper?"
"Talk with Reiko, read, listen to records, go to other people's flats and
play games, stuff like that."
"I do guitar practice and write my autobiography," said Reiko.
"Autobiography?"
"Just kidding," Reiko laughed. "We go to bed around ten. Pretty
healthy lifestyle, wouldn't you say? We sleep like babies."
I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes before nine. "I guess you'll
be getting sleepy soon."
"That's OK. We can stay up late today," said Naoko. "I haven't seen
you in such a long time, I want to talk more. So talk."
"When I was alone before, all of a sudden I started thinking about the
old days," I said. "Do you remember when Kizuki and I came to visit
you at the hospital? The one on the seashore. I think it was the first
year of the sixth-form."
"When I had the chest operation," Naoko said with a smile. "Sure, I
remember. You and Kizuki came on a motorbike. You brought me a
box of chocolates and they were all melted together. They were so
hard to eat! I don't know, it seems like such a long time ago."
"Yeah, really. I think you were writing a poem then, a long one."
"All girls write poems at that age," Naoko tittered. "What reminded
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