Deep wells

I’ve been enjoying Haruki Murakami’s early novels lately. Here is a paragraph from “Pinball, 1973.”

“On any given day, something can come along and steal our hearts. It may be any old thing; a rosebud, a lost cap, a favourite sweater from childhood, an old Gene Pitney record. A miscellany of trivia with no home to all their own. Lingering for two or three days, that something soon disappears, returning to the darkness. There are wells, deep wells, dug in our hearts. Birds fly over them.”

–Haruki Murakami, Pinball, 1973