17 Jul Writer.

Kafka on the Shore – Haruki Murakami

Before running away from home I wash my hands and face, trim my nails, swab out my ears, and brush my teeth. I take my time, making sure my whole body’s well scrubbed. Being really clean is sometimes the most important thing there is. I gaze carefully at my face in the mirror. Genes I’d gotten from my father and mother- not that I have a recollection of what she looked like-created this face. I can do my best to not let emotions show, keep my eyes from revealing anything, bulk up my muscles, but there’s not much I can do about my looks. I’m stuck with my father’s long, thick eyebrows and the deep lines between them. I could probably kill if I wanted to- I’m sure strong enough- and I can erase my mother from my memory. But there’s no way to erase the DNA they passed down to me. If I wanted to drive that away I’d have to get rid of me. There’s an omen contained in that. A mechanism buried inside me.
A mechanism buried inside of you.