imagination can be just as real - by Sophie Wang - Sophicle

Recently, I was sifting through my friend's bookshelf when the title of South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami caught my eye---I loved how sparkly and enigmatic it sounded. It's easier to imagine what could lie South of the Border, but the latter was non-sensical. I asked him, "well, did you find out what was West of the Sun?" After a long pause, he smiled, "yeah, I think I did." “Day after day you watch the sun rise in the east, pass across the sky, then sink in the west, and something breaks inside you and dies. You toss your plow aside and, your head completely empty of thought, begin walking toward the west. Heading toward a land that lies West of the sun. Like someone possessed, you walk on, day after day, not eating or drinking, until you collapse on the ground and die. That’s hysteria siberiana.” After finishing the book, I felt stunned---well, there's nothing West of the Sun. And it turned out, Mexico was South of the Border! I picked up this book to figure out

Recently, I was sifting through my friend's bookshelf when the title of South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami caught my eye---I loved how sparkly and enigmatic it sounded. It's easier to imagine what could lie South of the Border, but the latter was non-sensical. I asked him, "well, did you find out what was West of the Sun?" After a long pause, he smiled, "yeah, I think I did." “Day after day you watch the sun rise in the east, pass across the sky, then sink in the west, and something breaks inside you and dies. You toss your plow aside and, your head completely empty of tho