Sunday


Death exists, not as the opposite but as part of life

'It's a cliché translated into words, but at the time I felt it not as words but as that knot of air inside me. Death exists - in a paperweight, in four red and white balls on a pool table - and we go on living and breathing it into our lungs like fine dust.'


Text By

HARUKI MURAKAMI
Norwegian Wood


Photograph By

KADEEM OAK

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