PETE REVONKORPI is a freelance illustrator from Finland. When he was a child he spent a lot of time in the forest behind his house, and he found out that it was a home for numerous strange creatures, trolls, fairies, and goblins, which became good friends with him. Like everybody, Pete eventually grew up and moved away, but some of the creatures still visit, and Pete also goes back to meet them as often as he can. http://www.antithesiscommon.com/Issue4/pg32.htm
Страничка художника http://pesare.deviantart.com/
Из дневника автора:
I never really wanted to be anything when I grow up. I mean, I wanted to do things, but I never wanted to BE anything. I wanted to chase the bad guys and solve mysteries, but I didn’t really want to be a detective or a cop. I wanted to sail the seven seas, face the strongest storms and catch the biggest fish and find the lost treasure, but I never really wanted to become a sailor or a fisherman, or even a pirate. And I never wanted to become an astronaut either, but, more than anything, I wanted to fly off in to the stars.
And when the lights were off and the whole house was silent and asleep, my bed turned in to a spaceship and slowly drifted in to space. Further and further and further away, untill I could not see our house anymore.
And I wondered if our house could still see me.
Believe it or not, but the moon is not actually made out of cheese. After a week of drifting in my spaceship-bed I landed there and found out it is actually a rather boring combination of rock and stones and dust. I landed at the shore of the sea of tranquility, but it is not really a sea either, just the sea’s bottom. Rock and stones and dust. I guess who ever made the earth couldn’t come up with anything new and better for the moon and just left it unfinished and moved on to pour The Milky Way across the sky (sometimes I think that the milky way isn’t actually made out of milk either. But, then again, it would be silly to call it milky if it wasn’t).
But, one thing is true: there is a man there. The man on the moon. And I met him. He was sitting on an edge of a small crater and looked a little sad.
— Hello there, I said.
— Hello, the man on the moon said, with much surprise in his voice. — Who… who are you? And where on moon do you come from?
— I come from down there, from earth, I said and pointed to where I thought my home was (all the homes look very much alike from the moon).
— Oh, so you’re the man on the earth! The man on the moon said happily.
— Boy, I said quietly. — Boy on the earth. And there are a lot of us.
— A lot of you? The man on the moon said and scratched his cratery head.
— No, I mean boys, I explained and sat down next to him. — There are a lot of boys on earth. And girls and men and women also.
— Oh, that sounds wonderful, the man on the moon said and sighed. — There are not a lot of me here on the moon. Only one…
He looked a little sad again.
— Well, I’m here now, I said softly. — So, there is two of us.
The man on the moon looked at me and smiled.
— It’s a full earth tonight, he then said. — I’m glad I can finally share it with someone.
The earth really was full, but it seemed awfully empty.
We sat there for a while together, the boy on the earth and the man on the moon. We talked, and I realised we are not so different. When he was just a little boy on the moon, he used to spent all of his time looking at earth and dreaming about one day going there and finding out what wonders it held (he believed that the earth is made out of candy, but I told him that most of it isn’t. Or, maybe they have different kind of candy on the moon). The man on the moon also had a father and a mother. And they were very much like the fathers and the mothers on earth.
— Quit gazing at the earth, and keep your feet on the moon, his father always said to him.
— And go clean your crater! It is filled with space junk, his mother usually added.
But that little boy on the moon never stopped wondering. If he only had the courage to jump and fall down — to earth.
— But what if you miss, and you fall straight to the sun? the mother on the moon worried.
— And what on moon do you think you would do down there? the father tried to reason.
— Nothing, the little boy on the moon said. — I would just be there…
But he never jumped. He never fell. He just sat there on the edge of his crater and dreamed.
His father is now the man on one the moons of Saturn, and his mother is a shooting star. And he himself, he sits on the shore of the sea of tranquility, or he walks around on the dark side of the moon. And he does so, because he is the man on the moon.
— Come, I said to him after a long silence. — Let’s jump! Together, let’s jump and let’s fall.
— To earth? he asked.
— Yes, all the way down to earth.
He pondered it for a moment, then he smiled and took my hand. And then — we fell!
And, right at that moment, my mother heard a loud thump from upstairs and ran to see what was going on. And she saw me lying on the floor next to my bed.
— Oh, honey are you allright? she asked worryingly. — Did you fell from your bed again?
— Yes, I did. I fell. I’m fine, I said and climbed up.
And tonight outside I looked at the moon, and I’m pretty sure that it is made out of cheese.
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