ukradzione. ale to jednak zostaje.
chociaż dzisiaj nie listopad,
the november day moved slowly to twilight. she crept in under the eiderdown, stretched her long legs until they cracked and curled her toes around the hot water bottle. it was raining outside. in a couple of hours she would feel hungry enough to eat dinner and perhaps she would feel like talking. but at the moment she didn’t need to do anything except sink down in the warmth, the whole world was a single great big eiderdown which encircled her and everything else was outside. she never dreamed, she slept when she felt like it, and woke up when there was anything to make it worthwhile waking up.
tove jansson (moominvalley in november)