"That summer after he’d returned to Tokyo from Nagoya, Tsukuru was transfixed by the odd sensation that, physically he was being completely transformed. Colors the’d once seen appeared completely different…. When he moved, he felt clumsy and awkward, as if gravity were shifting around him."
—Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
"For five months after he returned to Tokyo, Tsukuru lived at death's door. He set up a tiny place to dwell, all by himself, on the rim of a dark abyss. A perilous spot, teetering on the edge, where, if he rolled over in his sleep, he might plunge into the depth of the void. Yet he wasn’t afraid. All he thought about was how easy it would be to fall in."
—Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
