I dedicate this novel to my deceased friend and to my living friends. June, 1987 Haruki Murakami.
At 2 a.m., feeling restless, I turned on the light and quietly flipped through *Norwegian Wood* once again in this corner.
It has accompanied the champagne hue for some time now. The champagne hue enjoys quietly flipping through such books, as if flipping through oneself.
I still remember, in the movie *Suzhou River*, there was a line of dialogue, with the same style, the same sense of confusion...