“I looked up at the sky. A few grey cotton chunks of cloud hung there, motionless. They seemed to be there for me, though I’m not sure why I felt that way. I remembered having looked up at the sky like this in search of the ‘eye’ of the typhoon. And then, inside me, the axis of time gave one great heave. Forty long years collapsed like a dilapidated house, mixing old time and new time together in a single swirling mass. All sounds faded, and the light around me shuddered. I lost my balance and fell into the waves. My heart throbbed at the back of my throat, and my arms and legs lost all sensation. I lay that way for a long time, face down in the water, unable to get up. But I was not afraid. No, not at all. There was no longer anything for me to fear. Those days were gone.”
— Haruki Murakami, “The Seventh Man” (translated by Jay Rubin), Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman
