I ran into Margaret Atwood for the first time in an Indian Railways compartment. I was perched…
Picking up Murakami is like getting home a new plant. You don’t know what plant…
I sniffand I sniff
and follow the scentinto the kitchen.
Something rots here.
I catch a whiffof something sickly sweet.
Did you knowhousehold dust is mostlyour own skin shedding,
our identitydisintegratingbefore our unseeing eyes.