murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"Gets cold here when it rains, doesn't it?" I said to Reiko.
"Every time it rains it'll be a little colder now, until it turns to snow,"
she said. "The clouds from the Sea of Japan dump tons of snow when
they pass through here."
"What do you do with the birds in the winter?"
"Bring them inside, of course. What are we supposed to do - dig them
out of the snow in spring all frozen? We defrost 'em and bring 'em
back to life and yell, OK, everybody, come and get it!"
I poked the wire mesh and the parrot flapped its wings and squawked
"Shithead!" "Thank you!" "Crazy!"
"Now, that one I'd like to freeze," Naoko said with a melancholy look.
"I really think I will go crazy if I have to hear that every morning."
After cleaning the aviary, we went back to the flat. While I packed my
things, the women put on their farm clothes. We left the building
together and parted just beyond the tennis court. They turned right and
I continued straight ahead. We called goodbye to each other, and I
promised I would come again. Naoko gave a little smile and
disappeared around a corner.
On my way to the gate I passed several people, all wearing the same
yellow raincapes that Naoko and Reiko wore, all with their hoods up.
Colours shone with an exceptional clarity in the rain: the ground was a
deep black, the pine branches a brilliant green, and the people
wrapped in yellow looking like otherworldly spirits that were only
allowed to wander the earth on rainy mornings. They floated over the
ground in silence, carrying farm tools, baskets and sacks.
The gatekeeper remembered my name and marked it on the list of
visitors as I left. "I see you're here from Tokyo," the old fellow said. "I
went there once. Just once. They serve great pork."
"They do?" I asked, uncertain how to answer him.
"I didn't like much of what I ate in Tokyo, but the pork was delicious.
I expect they have some special way of rearing 'em, eh?"
I said I didn't know, it was the first I'd heard of it. "When was that, by
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