Miss Saeki looks at me for a while, and the smile fades away. "Picture a bird perched on a thin branch," she says, "The branch sways in the wind, and each time this happens the bird's field of vision shifts. You know what I mean?"
"When that happens, how do you think the bird adjusts?"
I shake my head. "I don't know."
"It bobs its head up and down, making up for the sway of the branch. Take a good look at birds the next time it's windy. I spend a lot of time looking out that window. Don't you think that kind of life would be tiring? Always shifting your head every time the branch you're on sways?"
"Birds are used to it. It comes naturally to them. They don't have to think about it, they just do it. So it's not as tiring as we imagine. But I'm a human being, not a bird, so sometimes it does get tiring."
"You're on a branch somewhere?"
"In a manner of speaking," she says. "And sometimes the wind blows pretty hard."
-- Kafka on the Shore, Murakami