When people photograph an object, they often put a pack of cigarettes next to it to give the viewer a sense of the object's actual size, but the pack of cigarettes next to the images in my memory expanded and contracted, depending on my mood at the time. Like the objects and events in constant flux, or perhaps in opposition to them, what should have been a fixed yardstick inside the framework of my memory seemed instead to be in perpetual motion.
In Haruki Murakami's "Killing Commendatore," the author explores the nature of memory and perception through a striking analogy involving a pack of cigarettes. Typically used in photography to provide a sense of scale, the cigarettes in the narrator's memories fluctuate in size based on emotional states. This reflects how memories are not static but rather dynamic entities influenced by the viewer’s feelings and experiences at any given moment.
This shifting perspective on the pack of cigarettes symbolizes the broader themes in the narrative—how our understanding and recollection of objects and events are never fixed. Instead, they are shaped by internal emotions, leading to a representation of reality that is fluid and often contradictory. Murakami captures the essence of how human experience colors our perception and memory, creating a landscape where nothing is as straightforward as it seems.
