There’s something about Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami that doesn’t fade, no matter how long it’s been since you last read it. You open the first page, and suddenly, you’re 19 again—grieving something you can't name, missing someone you never really had. Toru isn't just lonely—he's suspended in memory. Every room he walks into feels like someone just left. Every girl he touches feels like someone he's still mourning. It’s not the drama that gets you, but the quiet: the way rain sounds in Tokyo, the way silence stretches between two people who don’t know what to say but don’t want to leave either. The novel doesn’t scream about loneliness. It hums. It lingers. It follows you into your own memories—the ones you usually keep buried under busyness and noise. And it gently, almost lovingly, reminds you: you've been here before. Sometimes I wonder if we ever really leave that kind of loneliness behind. Or do we just learn to carry it better? #Entertainment #Books #Loneliness