"the morning paper was full of earthquake reports. He read it from beginning to end on the plane. The number of dead was rising. Many areas were still without water or electricity, and countless people had lost their homes. Each article reported some new tragedy, but to Komura the details seemed oddly lacking in depth, all sounds reach him as far-off, monotonous echos. The only thing he could give any serious thought to was his wife as she retreated ever farther into the distance"
Haruki Murakami, After the quake