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“There were times when he had longed to return to that soft light. For some reason, all of the workers' prefab lodgings he had lived in had the same large windows on the north side. He had loved to read or draw in the light that came in through those windows. In was a soft, north light that neither burst in nor drenched them with its rays. That light from the north would almost apologetically enfold the room in gentle arms. It was different from the sharp brightness of the east window or the cheery sunniness of the south. The light from the north was quiet and serene, as if it had reached a state of enlightenment.”
― Hideo Yokoyama, The North Light

“He remembered the features of the land at all the different places. He thought back to the birds or the flowers or the trees that were native to those specific regions. And yet he had never thought of going back to pay a visit to any of them. Each of them was finished with, over, as if his memories had been abruptly cut off midway. The different locations failed to intersect with each other but lay separate and unconnected in the shadows of his mind. If your hometown is the place you think of when you come to a crossroads in your life, or when you find yourself in crisis, then Aose had none. All he had was the light.”
― Hideo Yokoyama, The North Light