This morning we woke to fog. It was as if we lived by the ocean and almost all the color had been drained from the world. The occasional leaf or errant persimmon glowed with residual color. When it was almost fully dark the dog and I skirted the pond and disturbed a flock of diving ducks. I could not see the birds but heard their flight and registered the splashes in the water.
I feel like I've swallowed a cloudy sky.
-- Haruki Murakami, from Sputnik Sweetheart (Alfred A. Knopf, 2001)