nostalgic_roads @ 2008-02-10T15:48:00

2008-02-10T23:49:06Z

"But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning." — Haruki Murakami (The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle)

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stop this train

nostalgic_roads @ 2008-02-10T15:48:00