"No doubt about it: there were two moons.
"One was the moon that had always been there, and the other was a far smaller greenish moon, somewhat lopsided in shape, and much less bright. It looked like a poor, ugly, distantly related child that had been foisted on the family by unfortunate events and was welcome by no one. but it was undeniable there, neither a phantom or an optical illusion, hanging in space like other heavenly bodies, a solid mass with a clear cut outline. Not a plane, not a blimp, not an artificial satellite, not a paper-mâché moon that someone had made for fun. It was without a doubt a chunk of rock, having quietly, stubbornly settled on a position in the night sky, like a punctuation mark placed after long deliberation or a mole bestowed by destined.
Tengo stared at the moon for a long time as if to challenge it, never averting his gaze, hardly even blinking. But no matter how long he kept his eyes locked on it, it refused to budge. It stayed hunkered down in its spot in the sky with silent, stone-hearted tenacity. . . .
"The sights of the two moons gave Tengo a slight dizzy feeling, as if it had put his nervous system out of balance. He sat down on the the top of the slide. Leaning against the handrail, and closed his eyes, fighting the dizziness. He felt as if the force of gravity around him had subtly changed. Somewhere the ride was rising, and somewhere else the tide was receding. Their faces devoid of expression, people were moving back and forth between "insane" and "lunatic."
- Haruki Murakami, from
1Q84
