Sitting on the floor, I'd replay the past in my head. Funny, that's all I did, day after day after day for half a year, and I never tired of it. What I'd been through seemed so vast, with so many facets. Vast, but real, very real, which was why the experience persisted in towering before me, like a monument lit up at night. And the thing was, it was a monument to me.
In this passage from Haruki Murakami's "Dance Dance Dance," the narrator reflects on the act of reminiscing. Sitting on the floor, they find themselves continually replaying memories from the past, an exercise that seems both endless and fulfilling. Despite the repetitiveness, this reflection brings them a sense of connection to their experiences, making the past feel significant and layered with meaning.
The narrator perceives their experiences as monumental, akin to a...
