I get up out of bed. I pull back the old, faded curtain and open
the window. I stick my head out and look up at the sky. Sure
enough, a mouldy-coloured half-moon hangs in the sky. Good.
We’re both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We’re
connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly
draw it towards me.

Autore: Haruki Murakami