Every few minutes, someone would…


Every few minutes, someone would come and paint over the gray with a different-textured gray – one with a touch of gold or green or red. I was impressed with the variety of grays that existed. Human beings were so strange. All you had to do was sit still for ten minutes, and you could see the amazing variety of grays.

The Wind-Up Bird ChronicleHaruki Murakami, pg 61.


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