有時候所謂命運這東西，就像不斷改變前進方向的區域沙風暴一樣。你想要避開它而改變腳步，結果，風暴也好像在配合你似的改變腳步。你再一次改變腳步。於是風暴也同樣地再度改變腳步。好幾次又好幾次，簡直就像黎明前和死神所跳的不祥舞步一樣，不斷地重複又重複。你要問為什麼嗎？因為那風暴並不是從某個遠方吹來的與你無關的什麼。換句話說，那就是你自己。那就是你心中的什麼。所以要說你能夠做的，只有放棄掙扎，往那風暴中筆直踏步進去，把眼睛和耳朵緊緊遮住讓沙子進不去，一步一步穿過去就是了。那裡面可能既沒有太陽、沒有月亮、沒有方向、有時甚至連正常的時間都沒有。那裡只有粉碎的骨頭般細細白白的沙子在高空中飛舞著而已。要想像這樣的沙風暴。
而且當然，你是要實際穿過那東西的。那激烈的沙風暴。形而上的象微性的沙風暴。不過雖然是形而上的象徵性的，那東西卻同時也像千把剃刀般會銳利地割裂肉身。無數的人將會浴血其中，你自己也可能會流血。溫暖而鮮紅的血。你的雙手將沾滿血跡。那既是你的血，也是其他人的血。
而且當那沙風暴結束時，你可能還不太能理解，自己是如何度過那風暴活下來的。不，甚至不太清楚那風暴是否真的已經走掉了。不過只有一件事你可以確定。那就是從那風暴中走出來的你，已經不是踏進去時的你了。 對，這就是沙風暴這東西的意思。
村上春樹--海邊的卡夫卡
“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
