Book: Norwegian wood. Page 2

At that age everything you see, feel and think, in the end, like a boomerang, comes back to you.

I'm not so smart after all. I'm naive and stubborn woman. Neither the system, nor who is to blame, does not concern me. Enough for me to get married, every night to sleep in the arms of a good man and have his child. That's all. That's all what I want.

Kizuki still seventeen. Naoko continues to be twenty-one. Forever.

No, even my appetite and large, but I hope not. But to totally did what I want. Here, for example, if I tell you now that I want strawberry cake, and you then drop everything and run to buy it. Then you come running, panting, and said, "Now, Midori, your strawberry cake", and handed it to me. And I said, "Ha, and I don't want it" and throw it out the window. That's what I want.

I hate the whole day to sit at home and wait for call someone. When one left, it feels as if the body is rotting a little bit. All rot, decompose, and at the end there will be only a murky green puddle in the ground and absorbed. Remains one garment. The feeling I have when the whole day sitting alone.

How nice that someone can write a letter. It's really great when you can just sit down, take a pencil and write when you want to convey your thoughts to someone.

I also looked into her eyes, but her eyes said nothing. His eyes were so clear that they seemed, here-here will affect some other world, but as I looked, to see they did not succeed. Our faces were separated no more than thirty centimeters, but she seemed remote for a few light years.

Slave to the sad music.

Of my something fell out, nothing was instead left in its place is only void. Because of this, the body was unnaturally easy, the sounds were just lost in the void.

I do want to be sure to remember. Will be able to remember always that I existed and so I was with you?

Don't feel anything. No sadness, no sorrow, no bitterness. And no memories at all.

"Hey, Mizuki here - spooky world," I thought. These assholes get the credits out of people and build a society of scoundrels.

In the world of justice, even in principle, no. It's not my fault. Initially, all arranged.

You die with me? she said, eyes flashing.
- Well, here's another. Dangerous will be, I'll leave. Want to die, can die one.
You're so selfish!
- I can not with you together to die due to the fact that you have a lunch fed. Now, if dinner, then maybe a different matter.