Sitting on the sofa next to a small desk, I poured myself a glass of sparkling wine. Outside the window, the sun was setting, casting the last beams of light onto the balcony. Lights began to twinkle from the surrounding buildings. I opened the door, stepped onto the balcony, and leaned against the railing. The city was never quiet; opening a door or window invariably let in the noise. It was often annoying, but in that moment, it felt real and soothing, reinforcing the sensation of the world operating like a vast machine—a feeling I desperately needed.

Minutes earlier, I had finished listening to the audiobook of “Norwegian Wood.” I never expected to complete an audio file over 13 hours long, especially since it was in English, not my native language. Yet, from the first minute, I was captivated and fully immersed. It was strange how every word was clear and seemed to translate seamlessly into my language, the narration as familiar as if I had heard it many times before.

I had indeed read the book several times—perhaps five to ten times over the last 25 years. My familiarity with the story meant that every sentence conjured vivid scenes in my mind, enhancing the delivery of the narrative.

Time passed unnoticed. Hours slipped by as I delved deeper into the story, reminiscent of my wanderings in a forest over the years. Each visit to the forest brought different sensations, influenced by the season and my age. This time, the experience varied significantly; perhaps because I had never listened to an audiobook like this before, or maybe because I had never read an entire book in English. I had to concentrate and follow the narrator step by step, unlike when reading by myself. I noticed nuances I might have previously overlooked, discovering new details in a familiar landscape.

The audiobook journey reminded me of my first long-distance drive. I had never imagined driving more than 200 kilometers by myself before that journey of over 1300 kilometers. Since then, my perception of distance had changed; now, a trip of 500 to 800 kilometers seemed short. I believe that after the 13-hour audiobook, my definition of a long audio file has also changed.

My perception of time has shifted. Similar to the long journey, I could hardly imagine planning years ahead when I was younger. Living in the present was my entire focus, though I looked forward to summer and winter vacations and awaited replies to my letters. It was impossible then to envision a future life. Now, 25 years after my first encounter with “Norwegian Wood,” my concept of time is completely different. I can barely recall when I took breaks from reading over the years, but those moments happened, blending into other memories. As I age, memories flatten in my mind, their sequence becomes unclear, and distinguishing between memories, dreams, and imaginations becomes challenging. But it doesn’t matter; they all reside in my mind, unnoticed and uncared for by others. No matter how much I ponder the reality of past events or their timing, I can never return, not even for a second. I just need to live life and intentionally leave some blanks.

However, some scenes remain vivid in my memory, livelier than my personal recollections. I can remember Colonel Aureliano Buendía facing the firing squad, an old lady in the entrance hall of a public place when a man approached her, and an old man who had 622 love affairs telling an old woman he had waited for her for 51 years, 9 months, and 4 days. I also remember a 12 or 13-year-old boy proclaiming that the cousin visiting his house for the first time was the girl he had met somewhere before. Among all these scenes, what I really want to highlight are the forest and meadow where Watanabe and Naoko wandered, the Boeing 747 landing at Berlin airport, Naoko’s birthday celebration, and the calls for Kobayashi from nowhere. “Norwegian Wood” has significantly influenced my life, affecting how I make friends, write, love, and view the world.

At 37, looking back at my life seemed so distant when I first read “Norwegian Wood.” It was hard to imagine being that age at the time. But now, that age has long passed, and there’s no going back. Only in stories do people live from 17 to 20, then 17 again, and only in stories does a 37-year-old man continually reflect on his early years without aging. In the real world, time never stops.

I listened to the audiobook whenever possible over the past week, and it ended all too quickly. A sudden epiphany struck me, a voice telling me I had been in the forest too long and it was time to leave. Indeed, I realized this truth suddenly. Yes, I had been lost in “Norwegian Wood” for too long, having read all other novels by Haruki Murakami and none had impacted me as much. I read the books mentioned in “Norwegian Wood,” like “Magic Mountain” and “The Great Gatsby,” and listened to the referenced music, loving a few of them. I wanted to help anyone I cared for, seeing them as victims like Naoko. Most people, however, are normal and neither need nor understand such fanciful notions of assistance.

It seems I have been trapped in the world of “Norwegian Wood,” and indeed, it is time to leave, just as Watanabe decided to live without Naoko and be brave again. This realization hits me anew; as long as I continue this way, I may never be able to leave. But it doesn’t matter; it’s not a real forest, and I decide whether I am in or out. Again, like the metaphor of the well in the forest in the book, whether it was real or not didn’t matter.

The audiobook episode finally ended, and so did my journey in the forest. After finishing this drink, I will go to bed and hopefully sleep well. After all, tomorrow is another day.