The Trip to Europe Started with Flying Across the Sea to Get a Haircut

I never thought that my trip to Europe would start with a trip across the ocean to get a haircut. I haven't read Murakami too much, but I always finish it in one sitting. His words are light and restrained, but like a hidden thread, leading people to the depths of memory. The whispers about "youth" in "Wearing Sneakers to the Barbershop" suddenly reminded me of my first experience of getting a haircut in Europe. Time cannot be turned back, but memory can be returned. So, I picked up those scattered fragments, turned the clock back to the end of the last century, and wrote down what I had seen and felt in more than ten years of European life: the story of moving in the Danish forest, a walk in the rain in Belgium, the whispered narration of the past in Vietnam, the pursuit of lost Sanmao in the Canary Islands, the sound of "La Vie en Rose" in the spring rain in Paris, the obsession of driving long distances for a delicious meal, the legend of a German friend who became the mother of six children, and the blue of the Mediterranean under the sky of Florence. These words are not grand narratives, but fragmentary records of daily life and wanderings. I slowly wrote it down and ended up with nine chapters. With the echo of "Nine", I hope the memory can stay for a long time, so I have this book.