Home again, I sat on the kitchen table as usual, drinking a beer and listening to music on the radio. It then occurred to me that I wanted to talk to someone – about the weather, about political stupidity; it didn’t matter what. I just wanted to talk to somebody, but I couldn’t think of anyone, no one person I could talk to.
I didn’t even have a cat.
Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle page 371
Sampit, 18 Juli 2016
Wild Child – Reno