POST II - May Kasahara on the Gooshy Source of Heat (Part 2/15):

"C'mere, Mr. Wind-Up Bird," said May Kasahara. She raised herself on the deck chair.

I got out and went to hers.

"Sit down right here Mr.Wind-Up Bird," said May Kasahara.

I did as I was told and sat down next to her.

"Show me your face Mr. Wind-Up Bird."

She stared directly at me for a time. Then, placing one hand on my knee, she pressed the palm of the other against the mark on my cheek.

"Poor Mr. Wind-Up Bird," said May Kasahara, in a near whisper. "I know you're going to take on all kinds of things. Even before you know it. And you won't have any choice in the matter. The way rain falls in a field. And now close your eyes Mr. Wind-Up Bird. Really tight. Like they're glued shut."

I closed my eyes tightly.

May Kasahara touched her lips to my mark-- her lips small and thin, like an extremely well-made imitation. Then she parted those lips and ran her tongue across my mark-- very slowly, covering every bit of it. The hand she had placed on my knee remained there the whole time. Its warm. moist touch came to me from far away, from a place still farther than if it had passed through all the fields in the world. Then she took my hand and touched it to the wound beside her eye. I caressed the half-inch scar. As I did so, the waves of her consciousness pulsed through my fingers and into me-- a delicate resonance of longing. Probably someone should take this girl in his arms and hold her tight, I thought. Probably someone other than me. Someone qualified to give her something.

"Goodbye Mr. Wind-Up Bird. See you again sometime."

excerpt from Haruki Murakami's 'The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'