murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

fast asleep. In nice towns, people would bring me food and mosquito
coils, and in not-so-nice towns, people would call the police and have
me chased out of the parks. It made no difference to me one way or
another. All I wanted was to put myself to sleep in towns I didn't
know.
When I ran low on money, I would work as a labourer for a few days
until I had what I needed. There was always work for me to do. I just
kept moving from one town to the next, no destination in mind. The
world was big and full of weird things and strange people. One time I
called Midori because I had to hear her voice.
"Term started a long time ago, you know," she said. "Some courses
are even asking for papers already. What are you going to do? Do you
realize you've been out of touch for three whole weeks now? Where
are you? What are you doing?"
"Sorry, but I can't go back to Tokyo yet. Not yet."
"And that's all you're going to tell me?"
"There's really nothing more I can say at this point. Maybe in October.
.."
Midori hung up without a word.
I went on with my travels. Every now and then I'd stay at a dosshouse
and have a bath and shave. What I saw in the mirror looked terrible.
The sun had dried out my skin, my eyes were sunken, and odd stains
and cuts marked my cheekbones. I looked as if I had just crawled out
of a cave somewhere, but it was me after all. It was me.
By that time, I was moving down the coast, as far from Tokyo as I
could get - maybe in Tottori or the hidden side of Hyogo. Walking
along the seashore was easy. I could always find a comfortable place
to sleep in the sand. I'd make a fire from driftwood and roast some
dried fish I bought from a local fisherman. Then I'd swallow some
whisky and listen to the waves while I thought about Naoko. It was
too strange to think that she was dead and no longer part of this world.
I couldn't absorb the truth of it. I couldn't believe it. I had heard the
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