I look at thesky, wondering ifl'll catch a glimose of kindness there, but I don't. All I
see are indilterent summer clouds drifting over the Pacific. And they ppue nothing to
say tome. Cloudsare always taciturn. I grobablyshouldnt be looking.ün them.
What I shou be looki at is inside ot me. Likestating down into
see kindne there? I semis my own natåre:MyaW11 diuidu'at
uncoooeratwe ofte "If-centered yature that still daubi
zoccur, tries to tilld
carr@d this ch ßCter ar01i1i11iXé ail old shitcase. down a
not carriing it bec use I liké1tthåtonteritS are too heavy, and it 10
fraying in sipts. IVe carried itwith me Oetqusethere was nothin
Iwas
. Canl
rn,
oubles
ation.
suoøosed to carry. Still,l gpéssl haue
attached to it.
-Haruki Murakami
might expect.
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