I first read this in my World Literature course for college. It struck me as so interesting, like nothing else I had read, and I never forgot it. Murakami is known for the dream-like quality of his prose, not that it's soft and pleasant, but that you can't quite tell reality from perception. I think that's fun. Luck would have it that I found a pdf of the text recently. So you can read it here for free!

Here are a few lines that I find especially striking, and so have arranged them to look like a poem:

A finely honed razor moon floats white in the sky, roots of doubt burrow into the earth.

An illusion where the hand fails to touch objects close by, yet brushes what is out of reach.

That's TV PEOPLE That's tv people