January 21, 2007
Page 21
"How much time?"
I shook my head. "I have no idea. I could be done in a year, or it could take ten years."
She tossed the twig on the ground and stood up, brushing her lit cigarette on her coat. "Ten years. Don't you think that seems like an eternity?"
"I guess so," I said.
We left the grove and walked to the ICU campus, where as always we sat in the lounge and nibbled on hot dogs. At 2pm, the lounge television time and time again flashed an image of Yukio Mishima. The speakers were broken so we couldn't really understand the news, but whatever it was it was fine by us. We finished our hot dogs and had another cup of coffee each. A lone student climbed on a chair and fiddled with the volume knob for a bit, gave up, climbed down, and disappeared.
"I really want you," I said.
[Ed. note: This was the day that Yukio Mishima infamously committed suicide by seppuku after barricading himself in a Japan Self-Defense Force headquarters building and issuing a list of demands. IIRC Murakami has stated a dislike for Mishima, which would be well in line with student opinion of him back in the day.]
[Ed. note 2: Man, I really blew this translation. See Birnbaum for how this really ought to go. I'll fix it in the morning.]
Posted by tim at January 21, 2007 11:36 PM
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