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Alt er i altet

“Fabulous weather, isn’t it?” said the chauffeur, looking up at the sky. “It’s–how can I put it?–crystal clear.”
I nodded.
“When it gets this clear, God’s messages must have no trouble getting through at all,” I offered.
“Nothing of the kind,” said the chauffeur with a grin. “There are messages already in all things. In flowers, in the rocks, in the clouds…”
“And cars?”
“In cars too.”
“But cars are made in factories.” Typical me.
“Whosoever makes it, God’s will is worked into it.”
“As in ear lice?” Her contribution.
“As in the very air,” corrected the chauffeur.
“Well then, I suppose that cars made in Saudi Arabia have Allah in them.”
“They don’t produce cars in Saudi Arabia.”
“Really?” Again me.
“Really.”
“Then what about cars produced in America for export to Saudi Arabia? What god’s in them?” queried my girlfriend.
A difficult question.

Haruki Murakami: A Wild Sheep Chase, p. 151

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