Haruki Murakami. Norwegian wood (№ 27569)

The last time it happens. I want to say something, but the words only come out some are not. Or just not something you say or do something opposite. And trying to get better, even more confused, in the direction of leaving, and then can't understand that at first I wanted to say. It's like I'm two halves of the split and run it for yourself, then from myself. Is at the center of something of such a thick column, and around it I am with a catch-up play. And every time the most right words I have another, and I, who here, in any way it can not catch up with.