Tuesday, July 9, 2013

city, infinity

untitled (1 of 1)-XL

Gorgeous winter day with golden sunlight, the type that makes people be out and about.
I went to Mornington, picked up the microwave for the umpteenth time, said goodbye to the 70s wall paper house, drove home. The house felt empty. I went to Mordialloc, got an infinity tattoo in grey- small, inconspicuous I hope. It will fade, and I want it to fade. I want it to be a constant reminder of the fact that life ends, and for that reason, I should not and cannot afford to dwell too much on everyday things.

View from the train- old man in wheel chair crossing the street, in beautiful honey sunlight, sporting a footie beanie (what team?). Our bodies and what we wear are not us, but they represent truthfully some parts of us, like his beanie, like my tattoo.

I spent the next few hours reading Sputnik sweetheart at the City library. Short sentences with beauty& effortless ease, such is Murakami's power. I like the book. Kinda crazy at times, but I get it. Murakami must have lost a love/ someone dear to write something as heartbreaking as that. Fate, the quiet& calmness of acceptance that immediately follows a tragic event, the feeling of loneliness even when you live under the same roof as your family (the narrator and his girlfriend- the mother of the child). The fallibility of memories. There are so many things I love about this book.

I was totally immersed in the book.  The piano was played twice when I was there. One a skillful, slow and haunting melody.  One a somewhat inexperienced but passionate nevertheless. I was in another world- reading the book, listening to the piano.

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