Aren’t you lonely?

“Aren’t you lonely?”
“I’m used to it. I trained myself.”
“Training? What sort?”
I lit a cigarette and aimed the smoke at a spot two feet above her head. “I was born under a strange star. Like I’ve always been able to get whatever I want. But each time something new comes into my hands, I trample something else. Follow me?”
“A little.”
“No one believe me, but it’s the truth. It hit me about three years ago. So I decided. Not to want anything anymore.”
She shook her head. “And do you plan to live like that forever?”
“Probably. Then I won’t hurt anyone.”
“In that case,” she said, “you ought to live in a shoe box.”
A pretty cool way to look at it, if you ask me.

Excerpt from Pinball, 1973 by Haruki Murakami (Page 181)

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