3 posts tagged with "村上春树风格"

That swimming hall had been abandoned for a long time. Long enough for the notice posted by the city government on the faded iron gate to change from "Temporarily Closed for Electrical Maintenance" to "Structurally Unsafe, No Entry," and finally, to just a sheet of white paper, eroded by wind and rain until the characters were almost illegible, like a perfunctory band-aid unable to conceal the ever-thickening stillness within.

I don't know why, but I was always drawn to it. Especially after having exactly two glasses of whiskey on the rocks – no more, no less. The city felt like a giant, high-speed tumble dryer, jumbling everything dizzily. Only the swimming hall, like a forgotten sock in the corner of the machine, remained quietly curled up, exuding an almost stubborn scent, out of place with its surroundings. Not just mustiness, nor the lingering smell of chlorine, but more like... how to put it? Like the scent of time itself, settled, tinged with dust and the hopeless aroma of green algae.

I found out the parcel was lost on a gloomy afternoon. The voice on the other end of the phone was mechanical and indifferent, like a programmed machine, repeating words like "sorry," "unable to track," and "recommend reporting to the police." I hung up the phone and walked to the window, looking at the gray sky outside. In March in Tokyo, the air is filled with an indescribable dampness and a scent of decay.

我是在一个下着雨的午后走进那家黄焖鸡店的。雨不大，却也足以把整座城市染成一种暧昧的灰蓝色。店里没什么人，只有靠窗的位置坐着一个穿格子衬衫的男人，面前摆着一份已经凉透了的黄焖鸡，和一杯冒着虚无热气的啤酒。

我找了个离他最远的位置坐下，点了一份黄焖鸡，不要米饭。服务员是个面无表情的年轻女孩，像是刚从一部黑白电影里走出来。她机械地重复了一遍我的点单，转身走向后厨，留下一个空洞的回声在店里飘荡。