There are things which refuse to be written, but we, as humble human beings, try so desperately to express them. Emotions, feelings, moods. Let’s call it for now Poetry. I have always been looking for it in my kind of humans, in art, in literature, in paintings, in music, in figure skating. That’s my religion and my hubris. I love playing – with words, gestures, symbols, worlds, constructing and putting together puzzles for a bigger picture. I believe that in a world full of greyness, the only thing that remained for us is the play, or the dance. Otherwise, indeed, we would be lost. And this song is my unwritten poem of today.
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Murakami and Our Uncertain Walls
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