” Look, the moon.
” What happened?”
” I think a mosquito just bit me.”
” Oh really? I remember you saying mosquitoes never bother you.”
” I did’t say that.”
” Never mind Mr. Fiberfill, let’s close the window.”
” Ok, quickly, before another one gets me.” Pomi climbed down the window.
” Would you like me to read to you?” My little crochet doll inspected the books on my desk.
“Skulle du vilja att jag ska laesa till dig?”
Pomi giggled. ” It’s Swedish and it means: would you like me to read to you? Or at least I think that’s what it means.”
” You don’t speak Swedish ! ”
Pomi did not answer. Instead he climbed on my laptop and started searching:
” I changed my mind. I am not going to read to you. You can listen to Tranströmer’s poems in Swedish. I know you love the sound of it.
I prefer the English translation because I want to understand what is being said. Or at least I can pretend I do.” Pomi grinned.
I listened to a couple of poems, enthralled by the rhythm and the sound of the words. When I turned around to Pomi again he was lying on the open the book, fast asleep.
” Good night my little darling.”