Meet 100% girl, Haruki Murakami

On a clear April morning, I was passing by a 100 percent girl in Harajuku Backstreet.

　　The girl was not very pretty, her clothes were not outstanding, and the hair behind her head was persistently marked by the squeeze of sleep. I'm afraid I'm almost thirty years old. Strictly speaking, I am afraid it is difficult to call a girl. However, fifty meters away, I could see at a glance that she was a hundred percent girl to me. From the moment I saw her posture, my chest trembled like a crackling sound, and my mouth rustled like a desert.

　　Maybe you also have your ideal type of girl, such as a girl who likes to have a weak ankle, a girl with big eyes, a girl with ten fingers who is absolutely good-looking, or a girl who is inexplicably obsessed with spending time eating slowly. Of course, I also have my own preferences, and when I was eating at a restaurant, I used to look at the nose shape of a girl at the next table in a daze.

　　But to clearly outline the image of a hundred percent girl, no one can do it. I can't even remember what kind of nose she had. I can't even remember whether there was a nose or not, and now all I can remember is that she wasn't very pretty. It's incredible.

　　"Yesterday I passed by a 100 percent girl on the road." I said to a man.

　　"Well," he replied, "are people beautiful? ”

　　"No, I'm not talking about this."

　　"So, that's the type that suits your taste?"

　　"Can't remember. What the eyes are, whether the chest is big or small, all forgotten. ”

　　"Inexplicable!"

　　"It's inexplicable."

　　"So," he seemed interested, "what have you done?" Talking? Or tracked? ”

　　"Nothing was done," I said, "just a passing by." ”

　　She went from east to west, and I walked from west to east, on a refreshed morning in April.

　　I wanted to talk to her, even for thirty minutes. I want to inquire about her origins, and I also want to give up my own life in its entirety. More importantly, it was to find out the fate that led us to pass by the back streets of Harajuku on a clear morning in April 1981, which must be filled with the warm secrets of the ancient machines of peacetime.

　　So we can find a place to have lunch and see Woody. Alan's video, and then stop by the hotel bar for a cocktail or something. Get it well, maybe you can sleep with her after drinking.

　　Possibility is tapping my heart.

　　The distance between her and me was as close as fifteen or sixteen meters.

　　The question is, how exactly should I talk to her?

　　"Hello! Is it okay to talk to me? Even if it's thirty minutes. ”

　　It's too silly, it's almost like persuading people to join insurance.

　　"May I ask, is this laundromat open 24 hours a day?"

　　It's just as silly. Besides, I didn't even bring a laundry bag! Who can believe my confession?

　　Maybe it would have been better to get straight to the point. "Hello! You're a 100 percent girl to me! ”

　　No, no, she probably won't believe my confession. Even if you believe, you may not be willing to say anything to me. She might say something like this: Even if I'm a 100% girl to you, you're not 100% a 100% man to me, sorry! And that's quite possible. If I were in such a situation, I would be completely overwhelmed. This blow may have left me devastated. I'm thirty-two years old, and that's what comes down to that.

　　I was rubbing shoulders with me in front of the florist, and the warm little lump of air touched my skin. The tarmac is sprinkled with water, and the fragrance of roses ripples around. I couldn't even say hello to her. She wears a white sweater and holds a white envelope in her right hand that has not yet been stamped. Who she wrote the letter to. It was so sleepy-eyed that I might have been writing all night. The four-square envelope may contain all her secrets.

　　When she took a few steps back, her figure had long since disappeared into the crowd.

　　Today, of course, I know exactly how to talk to her at that time. But in any case, the white is too long, I must not express it well - that's it, everything I think is not practical enough.

　　In short, the confession begins "a long, long time ago" and ends with "Don't you think this is a sentimental story?"

　　Once upon a time, there was a place where there was a boy and a girl. Boy Eighteen. Maiden Sixteen. Young boys are not handsome, and girls are not very beautiful, nothing more than lonely and ordinary boys and girls everywhere. But both firmly believe that somewhere in the world there must be a girl and a boy who is 100% suitable for them. Yes, the two believe in miracles, and miracles do happen.

　　One day, the two met unexpectedly on the street.

　　"What a coincidence! I've been looking for you. Maybe you don't believe it, you're 100 percent girl to me! The boy said to the girl.

　　The girl said to the boy, "You are also one hundred percent boy to me." From head to toe exactly as I imagined. It was a dream.

　　The two sat on a park bench, holding hands and talking tirelessly. The two are no longer alone. 100% need each other, 100% needed by each other. And what a wonderful thing it is to need 100% of each other and to be 100% needed by each other! This is already a cosmic miracle!

　　But a small, indeed small, small doubt crossed the minds of the two men: Is it a good thing that dreams come true so easily?

　　When the conversation was suddenly interrupted, the young man said:

　　"I said, try again! If the two of us were really a couple of 100 percent lovers, we would surely meet somewhere one day. The next time you meet, if you still feel that the other person is 100%, you can get married there immediately, okay? ”

　　"Okay." The girl answered.

　　So the two separated and went their separate ways.

　　However, to be honest, there is no need to try at all, it is simply superfluous. Why? Because the two are indeed a pair of 100% lovers. Because it was a miraculous encounter. But the two were too young to know much, so the ruthless fate began to tease the two.

　　One winter, both contracted the vicious flu that raged that year, and after a few weeks of wandering the death line, their memories of the past were lost. It was bizarre, and when the two of them woke up, their heads were as empty as the coin box of D.H. Lawrence's boyhood.

　　But after all, this pair of young people is intelligent and open-minded and extremely persevering, and after unremitting efforts, they have finally regained new knowledge and new emotions, and are competent to re-enter the social life happily. Oh, my God! These two people are really impeccable! They were fully able to change the subway, deliver express mail at the post office, and experience seventy-five percent and eighty-five percent love, respectively.

　　So back and forth, the boy was thirty-two, and the girl was thirty years old. Time passes at an alarming rate.

　　On a clear morning in April, the boy walked along the back street of Harajuku from west to east to drinking a discounted morning coffee, and the girl went from east to west along the same street to buy a fast letter stamp, and the two passed by in the middle of the road. The shimmer of lost memories instantly illuminated two hearts:

　　She was one hundred percent girl to me.

　　He was one hundred percent boy to me.

　　However, the candlelight of the two people's memories was too weak, and the words of the two were not as clear as fourteen years ago, and as a result, they passed by without even saying a word, and disappeared directly into the crowd, forever and ever.

　　Don't you think it's a sentimental story?

　　Yes, I should have spoken to her like this.