Did you ever try to s impresses you very muco receive an impressive lack of appreciation?

        Its like taking landscape pictures from your vacation, and t dont bother.

        to me alented, abs, inspiring er    s story I ;Sleep." e tory (;Sleep" and transcription-friendly), yping out one day at    to tes ions made trospect, potentially a bit touc day; but ts beside t.)

        I guess    cural battles carefully.

        But if at least one person is searic Murakami and is gratified by t have been in vain.

        =============================================

        ttack, by haruki Murakami

        Im still not sure I made t y    ttack. But t mig ion o say t s, and vice versa. I myself ed tion t, in fact, .

        If you look at it t just so    I told my    ttack. I    been planning t it up--I ten all about it--but it    one of t-you-mention-it kind of ther.

        reminded me of ttack    before ten a lig six, crao bed at y, and goo sleep. For some reasoly t. A fees later, truck ornado in tremendous, overp hunger pangs.

        Our refrigerator tained not a siem t could be tecegorized as food. e tle of Frencter, and a box of refrigerator deodorizer. ito establisanding o tary be alone anything else.

        I    time, and sarial    a design scy-eigy-nine-- year hings on our minds.

        e bot too o go back to sleep, but it    just to lie too o do anyt out of bed and drifted into tcable from eac could    hunger pangs?

        e took turns opening tor door and    no matter imes ents er and dressing and deodorizer. It migo saute tter, but tomac to be eaten    to satisfy an appetite.

        "ould madame care for some Frenceed in deodorizer?"

        I expected o ignore my attempt at ;Lets get in t restaurant," I said. "t be one on t;

        Sed t suggestion. "e t. Youre not supposed to go out to eat after midnig; S way.

        I breat;I guess not."

        reverberated in my ears y of a revelation. Maybe ts    o t t o could be satisfied t of taking it to an all-nigaurant on the highway.

        A special kind of    mig be?

        I    present it ic image.

        One, I am in a little boat, floating on a quiet sea. ter, I see ting up from tty close to ters surface, but just    tell. Four, transparency of ter interferes ion of distance.

        te description of t arose in my mind during time my o an all-nigaurant and I agreed ;I guess not." Not being Sigmund Freud, I o analyze    t I kively t it ion.    grotesque iy of my anding--I all but automatically agreed ion).

        e did t    better ting t like beer muc ter cookies in ttom. tovers, soft and soggy, but wo, sav every crumb.

        It    and boundless as tter cookies and beer left not a trace.

        time oozed t in a fis. I read t on tared at my c tor door. I turerdays paper. I used tcard to scrape togetabletop.

        "Ive never been t; s;I    o do ;

        "Maybe," I said. "Or maybe not."

        ed for more fragments of food, I leaned over t and looked do ter volo. ty of ter all around t gave me an uled feeling, as if a ically sealed cavern t ranor exit. Somet tential reality of ence--resembled t feel op of a eeple. tioween hunger and acrophobia was a new discovery for me.

        occurred to me t I omac as empty t was--

        "time of ttack," I heard myself saying.

        "ttack?    are you talking about?"

        And so it started.

        "I oacked a bakery. Long time ago. Not a big bakery. Not famous. t bad, eittle neig in t w, ;

        "If you o attack a bakery, ;

        "ell, t in attag a big bakery. All ed    money. e tackers, not robbers."

        "e? ;

        "My best friend back ten years ago. e    buy toote. y ao get our tack ;

        "I do." S me. ar in t; you get a job? You could er sc ag bakeries."

        "e didnt    to ely clear on t."

        "ell, youre    you?"

        I nodded and sucked some more beer. to my brain and ruggling h hunger pangs.

        "times c; I said. "Lets go back to bed. eve got to get up early."

        "Im not sleepy. I    you to tell me about ttack."

        "to tell. No a. ement."

        "as it a success?"

        I gave up on sleep and ripped open anots ied in a story, so    all ts just the way she is.

        "ell, it . e got ed. But as a    didnt ake it from ;

        "Free?"

        "ly, no. ts t." I s;t tening to an album of agner overtures. So en to take as mucalked it over     be    sense of t     anybody. So    our knives ba , pulled up a couple of ed to tures to tannc;

        "And after t, you got your bread?"

        &qu of    in    and took it    us fed for maybe four or five days." I took anot a long, slow rog.

        "Of course,    you couldnt say ed a crime. It o agner urn,    our bread. Legally speaking, it ransa."

        "But listening to agner is not ; she said.

        "Oely not. If ted t o listen to o end. Nobody could icipated t. I mean--agner? It    a curse on us. No I t,    ;

        "You ;

        I rubbed my eyes again.

        "Sort of. Not your finger on. But tarted to cer t. It urning point. Like, I    back to ty, and I graduated, and I started udying t you and got married. I never did anyt again. No more bakery attacks."

        "ts it?"

        "Yup, ts all to it." I drank t of tabs lay in tray like scales from a mermaid.

        Of course, it    true t not of ttack. ty of t you could    your finger on, but I didnt    to talk about th her.

        "So, ts ;

        "I opped oget seen    know w ;

        For a telling ory. But s ready to press me on it.

        "Still," s;ts    it? ttack    cause."

        "Maybe so. I guess it ealked about tionso agner for days after t. e kept asking ourselves if    it sensibly,    c . Everybody got ill t figure out h bread.

        "But even so, ake. And someake    stayed ting a dark ss rue. It ;

        "Do you till ?"

        I took tabs from tray and arrao an aluminum ring t.

        " kno ts o tell w;

        "ts not true." S at me. "You    tell, if you t it. And unless you, yourself, personally break tll stick ootll torture you till you die. And not just you. Me, too."

        "You?"

        "ell, Im your best friend no I?    a il I married you. Dont you ts abnormal? Your curse is oo."

        I abs and put tray. I didnt kno I did feel so something.

        tarvatier t omasmitted to tced maery.

        I took anot my undersea volo. ter    not even notice it    felt as t ing in midair, ely noto support it. I could see every little pebble on ttom. All I o do ouchem.

        "eve only been living toget; s;but all time Ive been feeling some kind of ; Sly into my eyes and brougogetabletop, erlog. "Of course, I didnt kno il no;

        " kind of presence?"

        "Like ty curtain t    been was;

        "Maybe its not a curse. Maybe its just me," I said, and smiled.

        S smile.

        "No, its not you," she said.

        "Okay, supposed youre rig is a curse.     I do about it?"

        "Attaot as t;

        "No;

        "Yes. No unfinis;

        "But its t. ould a bakery be open no;

        "ell find ookyos a big city. t be at least one all-nig;

        e got into my old Corolla and started drifting around treets of tokyo at 2:30 a.m., looking for a bakery. tceering , treet like ret t, long and stiff as a dead fison automatic sgun. Its sled dryly in t of my ment. gun, I    s explain and I didnt ask. Married life is .

        Impeccably equipped, o find an all-nigy streets, from Yoyogi to So Yosuya and Akasaka, Aoyama, e-nigokyo    no bakeries.

        tered patrol cars.    to look inspicuous. took us and crept past, finally moving off into tance. Botimes I gre my ration never faltered. S bakery. Every time sed tgun s rustled like buckw husks in an old-fashioned pillow.

        "Lets fet it," I said. "t any bakeries open at time of nig to plan for t;

        "Stop t;

        I slammed on the brakes.

        "t; she said.

        treet ters rolled do ed, c Malds hing else.

        "I dont see any bakery," I said.

        it a    and pulled out a roll of clotape. epped out of t out on my side. Kneeling at t end, sore off a lengtape and covered te. t around to ticed efficy to s. I stood on taring at her.

        &quoing to take t Malds," s we would have for dinner.

        "Malds is not a bakery," I pointed out to her.

        "Its like a bakery," s;Sometimes you o promise. Lets go."

        I drove to t. S-ed sgun.

        "Ive never fired a gun in my life," I protested.

        "You dont o fire it. Just . Okay? Do as I say. e    t?"

        "Sure, but--"

        "tet toget. Ill do t."

        "But--"

        "y?"

        "I guess so." itook tgun and rolled back t a little. t.

        "Do ; I asked, o o myself.

        "Of course ;

        earing a Malds , ter flas;ele to Malds." I    t t girls    Malds late at nig of    only for a sed. I cauged    us.

        Obviously, tality manual said not uation like tarting to form t es after "ele to Malds," but o stiffen and t e out. Even so, like a crest moon in t of a professional smile li the edges of her lips.

        As quickly as I could manage, I ungun and aimed it in tion of tables, but tomers tudents, probably--and tic table, sound asleep. tra-garde sculpture. t t look likely to obstruct our operation, so I soer.

        All toget ter, te ties--and a student type in tc you could read as an expression. tood togeter, staring into tgun like tourists peering doening move. to rest top of ter, my finger er.

        "Ill give you t; said t;ted it at eleven, so    oo muc you    ;

        "Lo ster and turn off t; said my wife.

        "ait a minute," said t;I t do t. Ill be    permission."

        My ed orn.

        "Youd better do w s; I warned him.

        top ter, t my    to table. urned off t a scrical pa loter. I kept my eye on        a burglar alarm, but apparently Malds dont    o anybody to attae.

        t ster made a    y bucket being smas, but t table ill out cold. talk about a sound sleep: I    seen anyt in years.

        "ty Big Macs. For takeout," said my wife.

        "Let me just give you t; pleaded t;Ill give you more to mess up my ats and--"

        "Youd better do w s; I said again.

        t into tcogetarted making ty Big Macs. tudent grilled t them up. Nobody said a word.

        I leaned against a big refrigerator, aiming to patties s, sizzling. t smell of grilli burroo every pore of my body like a so my blood and circulating to t ers, togetically sealed o its pink walls.

        A pile of ed to grab and tear into t I could not be certain t sut ive. I o . In t kitcarted sing under my ski mask.

        t tgun. I scratctle finger of my left    it ear to bot couldnt ally, because I y on, but t kno and I    about to tell them.

        My ed t to to a bag.

        "o do t; t; you just take ts ting ty Big Macs?"

        I shook my head.

        My ;ere sorry, really. But t any bakeries open. If ttacked a bakery."

        t seemed to satisfy t least t ask any more questions. them.

        "ere stealing bread, not; sed , sort of like nodding and sort of like srying to do bot time. I t I .

        My o a post as expertly as if stons. S, or if anyoo go to toilet, but no one said a , s . tomers at table ill asleep, like a couple of deep-sea fis    aken to rouse them from a sleep so deep?

        e drove for a y parking lot by a building, and pulled in. te    six Big Macs doo tomace four. t left ty Big Ma t. Our        as if it could go on forever--vanis lig SOA ad toensity. Soon truck tires te. Afterward, sed her head on my shoulder.

        "Still    really necessary for us. to do t; I asked.

        "Of course it ; it me. S as soft and as ligten.

        Alone no and looked doo ttom of ters calm surface reflected ttle tering in a breeze--lapped against t. thing else.

        I stret ttom of t and closed my eyes, ing for tide to carry me where I belonged.
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