“[I]n the midst of this noiseless, icy world, all strength drained out of me, ebbing away bit by bit. Even, in the end, the strength to feel upset by my situation. My emotional compass had vanished. I lost all sense of direction, of time, of the sense of who I was. I don’t know when it began, or when it ended, but before I knew it I was locked away, alone and numb in the endless winter of that world of ice.”
— Haruki Murakami, “The Ice Man” (translated by Philip Gabriel), Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman
