Moominsummer Madness!

"Whomper hunted for the marmalade. ‘Perhaps jam will do just as well’, he said and tried to take the lid off a jam-pot. 
‘Painted plaster,’ stated the Mymble’s daughter. She took an apple and chewed at it. ‘Wood,’ she said. Little My laughed. 
But Whomper felt worried. All the things around him were false. Their pretty colours were a sham, and everything he touched was made of paper or wood or plaster. The golden crowns weren’t nice and heavy, and the flowers were paper flowers. The fiddles had no strings and the boxes no bottoms, and the books couldn’t even be opened. Troubled in his honest heart, Whomper pondered over the meaning of it all, but he couldn’t find any solution. ‘I wish I were just a tiny bit more clever’, he thought. ‘Or a few weeks older’. 
‘I like it here’, said the Mymble’s daughter. ‘It’s just as if nothing really mattered here’. 
‘Does anything matter anywhere?’ asked Little My. 
‘No’, her sister replied happily. ‘Don’t ask such silly questions’."

ur Moominsummer madness (Farlig midsommar) av Tove Jansson,

översatt av Thomas Warburton.

(Warburton översatte bland annat också Odysseus av James Joyce till svenska)