Haruki Murakami is my all time favourite author. While the sunlight filters through the silver blinds of my windows, Murakami's words are even more enticing than a rare blue sky in Hamburg. I devour his book and enter another world.
I like to read his books again and again: on the subway, squashed between commuters, in my lunchbreak or at home on my bed. I devour his words like chocolate cookies.
The last two novels I bought are "Sleep" (a short story with beautiful silver and blue illustrations) and "Dance Dance Dance" - whose central theme is dreams. Sometimes when I look up from the book I am reading, the world does seem a little softer and little fuzzier at the edges.
But then the subway doors slam together and I am reminded that dreams and reality cannot exist at the same time - as they do in Murakami's books.
I like to read his books again and again: on the subway, squashed between commuters, in my lunchbreak or at home on my bed. I devour his words like chocolate cookies.
The last two novels I bought are "Sleep" (a short story with beautiful silver and blue illustrations) and "Dance Dance Dance" - whose central theme is dreams. Sometimes when I look up from the book I am reading, the world does seem a little softer and little fuzzier at the edges.
But then the subway doors slam together and I am reminded that dreams and reality cannot exist at the same time - as they do in Murakami's books.