The girl has a question for the boy: "How much do you love me?"
He thinks for a moment, then quietly replies, "As much as a train whistle in the night."
She waits in silence for him to go on. Obviously there has to be a story there.
- Murakami Haruki, Feb 1995 – “Concerning the Sound of a Train Whistle in the Night or On the Efficacy of Fiction”. Translated by Michael Emmerich.
Love cannot be defined. It is both an essential part of the human experience as well as an entirely personal one. It mutates through time and our relationships with different people. It unites and divides us. The Still project is a story that started with a kiss that never actually happened. Yet, is replayed over and over again in my mind. Even now, decades after standing on that street corner in a rainy city neither of us has been to for years. Watching her walk away for what I thought was the last time.
It is an attempt to answer a question she has never asked me but, hovers in the background of all of our conversations. Still…