On weakness, the cold, and some barstool wisdom


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There is a certain satisfaction in ending something long due, not so much as a glorious triumph but a quiet enveloping relief. Like the rain that melts the sunshine in mornings and sings lullabies to the sleepless at night. Like the death of a joke that made you cry.

Haruki Murakami’s A Wild Sheep Chase is a pilgrimage to the expanse of power, the solitude and chaos of control. As always, it is both unsettling and peaceful, paving the way towards reflections and the metaphysics of thought.

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