(I love the simplicity and rhythm of Tove Jansson’s sentences, the drawings she did of her characters, the names she gave them.)
Tales from Moominvalley
by Tove Jansson
An excerpt from “The Spring Tune”
“It’s the right evening for a tune,” Snufkin thought. A new tune, one part expectation, two parts spring sadness, and for the rest just the great delight of walking alone and liking it.
He had kept this tune under his hat for several days, but hadn’t dared to take it out yet. It had to grow into a kind of happy conviction. Then he would simply have to put his lips to the mouth organ, and all the notes would jump instantly into their places.
If he released them too soon, they might get stuck crossways and make only a good half-tune, or he might lose them altogether and never be in the right mood to get hold of them again. Tunes are serious things, especially if they have to be jolly and sad at the same time.
But this evening Snufkin felt rather sure of his tune. It was there, waiting, nearly full-grown—and it was going to be the best he ever made.