“And then one day, something inside you dies.” “What do you mean?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Something. Day after day you watch the sun rise in the east, pass across the sky, then sink in the west. Heading toward a land that lies west of the sun. Like someone possesed, you walk on, day after day, not eating or drinking, until you collapse on the ground and die. That’s hysteria siberiana.”...
But what is it there, west of the sun?” I asked. She again shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Or maybe something. At any rate its different from south of the border.”

South of the Border, West of the Sun. Haruki Murukami, pag. 177 Vintage books, 1998