I’m free, I think. I shut my eyes and think hard and deep about how free I am, but I can’t really understand what it means. All I know is I’m totally alone. All alone in an unfamiliar place, like some solitary explorer who’s lost his compass and his map. Is this what it means to be free? I don’t know, and I give up thinking about it.
Haruki MurakamiAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: japanese
- Born: January 12, 1949
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song of elli (old age)"What is plucked will grow again, What is slain lives on, What is stolen will remain. What is gone is gone... What is sea-born dies on land, Soft is trod upon. What is given burns the hand -What is gone is gone... Here is there, and high is low; All may be undone. What is true, no two men know -What is gone is gone... Who has choices need not choose. We must, who have none. We can love but what we lose -What is gone is gone.
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The essence of the charge made against the modern high-status ideal is that it is guilty of effecting a gigantic distortion of priorities, of elevating to the highest level of achievement a process of material accumulation that should instead be only one of many factors determining the direction of our lives under a more truthful, more broadly defined conception of ourselves.
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