analogue vol 7

TTRRYY TTOO IIMMAAGGIINNEE TTHHIISS

You are afarmer living allalone on theSiberian tundra.

Day after dayyou plow yourfields.

As far as the eyecan see, nothing.

To the north,the horizon,to the east,the horizon,to the south,to thewest...moreof the same.

Every morning, when the sunrises in the east, you go outto work in your fields.

When it is directlyoverhead, youtake a break forlunch.

When it sinks in the west,you go home to sleep.

And then one day,something insideyou dies.

Day after day, youwatch the sun rise inthe east, pass acrossthe sky, then sink in thewest, and somethingbreaks inside you anddies.

You toss your plowaside and, your headcompletely empty ofthought, begin walkingtoward the west.

Heading towarda land that lieswest of the sun.

Like someonepossessed, you walkon, day after day, noteating or drinking...

...until youcollapse on theground and die.

That's hysteria siberiana.

Text copyright: Haruki MurakamiTaken from: 'South of the Border,West of the Sun'; Translated fromthe Japanese by Philip Gabriel

analogue/ vol 7/ July 2011analogue.zine@gmail.com