3 posts tagged with "Murakami Style"

At four in the morning, I woke punctually. The sky outside was an unimaginative grey, like an old rag washed over and over. Making coffee, toasting two slices of bread – this was an unshakeable ritual. Usually at this time, "Mustard" – my cat, a fellow with a mottled coat and eyes that always held a hint of philosophical contemplation – would appear promptly at the kitchen door, meowing in a tone that was just right, neither fawning nor distant, reminding me it was his breakfast time.

But not today.

When the plane landed at Keflavík, the sky was an indescribable grey-blue, mixed with a faint, elusive smell of sulfur. Three in the afternoon, yet the sunlight was as stingy as the residual glow before midnight. I had come to Reykjavik for a small translation seminar, the topic unimportant, at least to me. What truly drew me was the name "Iceland" itself, like an uncut piece of obsidian, cold, sharp-edged, yet potentially hiding unexpected light within.

The news came on the radio while I was cooking pasta. Not any special kind of pasta, just the most ordinary type, with canned tomato sauce from the supermarket, sprinkled with some powdered cheese. Outside, a light but steady rain was falling. April rain, carrying a sticky feeling that washes everything yet washes nothing away. The announcer, in a well-trained, emotionless tone, reported: "Gold prices plummeted sharply again today..." followed by a string of numbers and analysis, sounding like signals from a distant planet, utterly unrelated to the steaming pasta in my pot.