Script:

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At the time I was sitting on the hotel lobby sofa and vaguely thinking about oysters. Not lemon soufflé, not pencil sharpeners– oysters.

I don’t know why.

I just suddenly realized that I was thinking about oysters.

The oysters I was thinking about on the hotel lobby sofa were different from oysters thought about anywhere else.

They were shaped differently, they smelled differently, and their color was different, too.

They weren’t oysters harvested in some cove.

They were pure oysters harvested in a hotel lobby.

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After thinking about oysters for a while, I went to the sink to wash my face, then retied my tie and returned to the sofa.

When I got back, the oysters had already disappeared from inside my head.

Again, I don’t know why.

Maybe it was because I washed my faced or because I retied my tie.

Or maybe the hotel oyster season is extremely short.

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When the girl came 17 minutes after our appointed time, I told her about the hotel lobby oysters.

The image was so distinct I felt like I had to tell someone about them.

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“You want to eat oysters?” she asked.

“No, these oysters, they were purely oysters as a concept, unrelated to my appetite,”

I explained.

“The oysters came into being as the very essence of oys—“

“But you do want to eat some, right?” she said.

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When she mentioned it and I settled down to think about it, I certainly had developed an incredible desire to eat oysters. We went to the hotel restaurant and ate 25 oysters while drinking wine. Sometimes I think my appetite originates from a really strange place.

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Source: http://panathinaeos.com/2015/12/08/murakamis-oysters/