/lit/ - Literature

>>19803061
>Snufkin mumbled something and pulled his hat over his eyes. Someone flew across the brook on long pointed wings and gave a long, sad cry among the trees: Yo-yooo, yo-ooo, tee-woo …
>‘You can’t ever be really free if you admire somebody too much,’ Snufkin suddenly said, ‘I know.’
>‘I know you know everything,’ the little creep prattled on, edging closer still. ‘I know you’ve seen everything. You’re right in everything you say, and I’ll always try to become as free as you are … So now you’re on your way to Moominvalley to have a rest and meet your friends … The hedgehog told me that Moomintroll started waiting for you as soon as he wakes from winter sleep … Isn’t it a nice thing to know that someone’s longing for you and waiting and waiting to see you again?’
>‘I’m coming when it suits me,’ Snufkin cried violently. ‘Perhaps I shan’t come at all. Perhaps I will go somewhere else.’
>‘Oh. Then he’ll be sad,’ said the creep.
>Its fur was beginning to dry and becoming light brown and soft. It picked at the knapsack once again and asked cautiously:
>‘Would you perhaps … You who have travelled so much …?’
>‘No,’ Snufkin said. And he thought angrily: Why can’t they ever let my wanderings alone?! Can’t they understand that I’ll talk it all to pieces if I have to tell about it. Then it’s gone, and when I try to remember what it really was like, I remember only my own story.
>There was a long silence, and the night bird cried again.
>The creep arose and said in a small voice:
>‘Well, I must be off, I think. Cheerio.’