sedirea

monday, 29 january 1932:

something has happened to me, i can't doubt it anymore. it came as an illness does, not like an ordinary certainty, not like anything evident. it came cunningly, little by little; i felt a little strange, a little put out, that's all. once established it never moved, it stayed quiet, and i was able to persuade myself that nothing was the matter with me, that it was a false alarm. and now, it's blossoming.

'i guess i’ve been waiting so long i’m looking for perfection. that makes it tough.' 'waiting for the perfect love?' 'no, even i know better than that. i’m looking for selfishness. perfect selfishness. like, say i tell you i want to eat strawberry shortbread. and you stop everything you’re doing and run out and buy it for me. and you come back out of breath and get down on your knees and hold this strawberry shortbread out to me. and i say i don’t want it any more and throw it out of the window. that’s what i’m looking for.' 'i’m not sure that has anything to do with love,' i said with some amazement.'it does,' she said. 'you just don’t know it. there are times in a girl’s life when things like that are incredibly important.' 'things like throwing strawberry shortbread out of the window?' 'exactly. and when i do it, i want the man to apologize to me. 'now i see, midori. what a fool i’ve been! i should have known that you would lose your desire for strawberry shortbread. i have all the intelligence and sensitivity of a piece of donkey shit. to make it up to you, i’ll go out and buy you something else. what would you like? chocolate mousse? cheesecake?' 'so then what?' 'so then i’d give him all the love he deserves for what he’s done.'

haruki murakami / norwegian wood