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<rss xmlns:ps="http://trailfire.com" version="2.0"><channel><title>"the best of Haruki Murakami's short stories" by espressoemily</title><link>http://trailfire.com/espressoemily/trails/24449</link><category>espressoemily/trails</category><ttl>60</ttl><item><title>The Second Bakery Attack</title><link>http://trailfire.com/espressoemily/marks/48587</link><description><![CDATA[I&#39;m still not sure I made the right choice when I told my wife about the bakery attack. But then, it might not have been a question of right and wrong. Which is to say that wrong choices can produce right results, and vice versa. I myself have adopted the position that, in fact, we never choose anything at all. Things happen. Or not. If you look at it this way, it just so happens that I told my wife about the bakery attack. I hadn&#39;t been planning to bring it up--I had forgotten all about it--but it wasn&#39;t one of those now-that-you-mention-it kind of things, either.]]></description><category>the best of Haruki Murakami's short stories</category><author>espressoemily</author><pubDate>Mon, 29 Jan 2007 16:50:23 -0800</pubDate><guid isPermalink="false">trailfire:markId:48587</guid></item><item><title>Sleep</title><link>http://trailfire.com/espressoemily/marks/48590</link><description><![CDATA[This is my seventeenth straight day without sleep. I’m not talking about insomnia. I know what insomnia is. I had something like it in college—”something like it” because I’m not sure that what I had then was exactly the same as what people refer to as insomnia. I suppose a doctor could have told me. But I didn’t see a doctor. I knew it wouldn’t do any good.]]></description><category>the best of Haruki Murakami's short stories</category><author>espressoemily</author><pubDate>Mon, 29 Jan 2007 16:55:22 -0800</pubDate><guid isPermalink="false">trailfire:markId:48590</guid></item><item><title>The Kangaroo Communique</title><link>http://trailfire.com/espressoemily/marks/48591</link><description><![CDATA[Say hey, how’s tricks? This morning I paid a call on the kangaroos at the local zoo. Not your biggest zoo, but it’s got the standard animals. Everything from gorilla to elephants. Although if your taste runs to llamas and anteaters, don’t go out of your way. You won’t find any there. No impala or hyena either. Not even a leopard. Instead, there are four kangaroos.]]></description><category>the best of Haruki Murakami's short stories</category><author>espressoemily</author><pubDate>Mon, 29 Jan 2007 16:56:04 -0800</pubDate><guid isPermalink="false">trailfire:markId:48591</guid></item><item><title>On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning</title><link>http://trailfire.com/espressoemily/marks/48595</link><description><![CDATA[One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo&#39;s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl. Tell you the truth, she&#39;s not that good-looking. She doesn&#39;t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn&#39;t young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a &quot;girl,&quot; properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She&#39;s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there&#39;s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.]]></description><category>the best of Haruki Murakami's short stories</category><author>espressoemily</author><pubDate>Mon, 29 Jan 2007 17:06:40 -0800</pubDate><guid isPermalink="false">trailfire:markId:48595</guid></item><item><title>TONY TAKITANI by HARUKI MURAKAMI</title><link>http://trailfire.com/espressoemily/marks/48938</link><description><![CDATA[Tony Takitani&#39;s real name was really that: Tony Takitani. Because of his name and his curly hair and his deeply sculpted features, he was often assumed to be a mixed-blood child. This was just after the war, when there were lots of children around whose blood was half American G.I. But Tony Takitani&#39;s mother and father were both one-hundred-per-cent genuine Japanese. His father, Shozaburo Takitani, had been a fairly successful jazz trombonist, but four years before the Second World War broke out he was forced to leave Tokyo because of a problem involving a woman. If he had to leave town, he figured, he might as well really leave, so he crossed over to China with nothing but his trombone in hand.]]></description><category>the best of Haruki Murakami's short stories</category><author>espressoemily</author><pubDate>Tue, 30 Jan 2007 07:13:02 -0800</pubDate><guid isPermalink="false">trailfire:markId:48938</guid></item></channel></rss>
