She smiled for the first time and gently shook her head from side to side. "I believe that what you need is money. Does money have a name?"
I shook my head as she was doing. Money had no name, of course. And if it did have a name, it would no longer be money. What gave money its true meaning was its dark-night namelessness, its breathtaking interchangability.

from Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

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