This was my favourite time of day, reading to his heart's content before going to sleep while battle with Murakami's masterpieces. For both of us, it had simply been too enormous an experience. We shared it by not talking about it. Does this make any sense?

Him : "Very nice to meet you again"
Me : "Yes. Perhaps. But I'm not here by my own choosing."
Him : "None of us are. Where are you? Where can we to go to fall in love again"
Me : "Just beyond the border of reason"
Him :  "Hope there is a border. I truly do."
Me : "A border? Between what?"
Him : "Between this world and that"