it's hard

 i stare at her chest. as she breathes, the rounded peaks move up and down like the swell of waves, somehow reminding me of rain falling softly on a broad stretch of sea. i'm the lonely voyager standing on deck, and she's the sea. the sky is a blanket of gray merging with the gray sea off on the harizon. it's hard to tell the difference between sea and sky. between voyager and sea. between reality and the workings of the heart.

kafka on the shore, haruki murakami