Haruki Murakami. Poslemrak (№ 11343)

I often think about the past. Especially now... this notice. In order to live, man needs the memories as fuel. Anyway, what memories. Expensive or worthless, important or ridiculous - they're all just fuel. The newspaper advertisement or philosophical treatises, dirty porn or ten banknotes to fire, in which they are thrown, it's all just paper. It would not be the fire blaze in different ways, saliva and then: "Oh, Kant's planted!" or "yeah, the evening news!" or "Wow, what Tits!" Fire everything... damn That's the same with our memories. Unnecessary, random, junk, disposable - everything will fit, but if the fire is not extinguished...