Every Sunday morning is like a lockdown. The city streets are deserted. I encounter only characters from my stories.
Two men and a woman with phone numbers on their chests walk around lost. They no longer know who they are or where to go. A retired writer searches desperately for the pages of a lost story. When he looks up, he finds in the window of a bookstore that has been closed for months First person singular, the new collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami.
A little further on, I meet Raymond K. - He has been watched by the tower for as long as I have known him. If he spits on the ground, he has to say 'sorry' three times right away. Raymond is not allowed by the tower to watch TV after ten o'clock in the evening, and oh woe is him if he cuts in at a shop.
The tower has devised an ingenious and cruel way to ensure Raymond's compliance. Namely, he threatens to punish his deceased loved ones. They will pay in the afterlife for Raymond's sins.
So Raymond does not spit on the street, waits patiently even when others push ahead, and runs laps around the rubbish bin when a piece of apple has fallen.
The rug behind which Raymond can hide
But lately, the tower's power seems to be weakening. Raymond is, in fact, in love. He has met a girl who works in a craft shop, the location of which I promised not to reveal.
The girl patiently weaves a cloth behind which Raymond can hide. Now the tower cannot see him and Raymond has entered the land of freedom.
He has a bunch of flowers in his hand. It brightens the Sunday morning, but at the same time I hold my heart. Because what happens when the girl doesn't like him anymore. The robe rips and will the tower then retaliate?
But for now, there is no question of that. The sun is shining and Raymond K. is a happy man.
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