Powee and I are reading this book by Haruki Murakami (村上春樹) called Kafka on the Shore. I’m only on chapter 15, but each chapter feels disconnected somehow. There are three story lines and three voices, very distinct and very different.

I wonder if the feeling of loneliness that results from my reading experience is what he meant the reader to feel. It’s an irrational kind of fear of loneliness. I’m not sure how to put it in words.

I’ve always felt like stories conveyed more than straight explanations. Sure, it’s not as clear, but the feelings are more real.

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Last night, the power went out in the house I’m renting from. What was scary was the fact that I was alone, in the middle of reading Kafka on the Shore.

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