The Listener by Tove Jansson Page B

silent, and everyone looked alike.
    Manda went home. She was very tired. She took up her pastels to draw a new pattern that seemed to her attractive, but suddenly she didn’t know which colours to choose or why in the world they should go together in harmony.

Proposal for a Preface
    S HE REMOVED THE BEDSPREAD , folded it, put it on a chair, turned on the bed lamp, and turned off the overhead. Then she opened the inner window, took out a bottle of Vichy water, closed the window, replaced the metal cap with a rubber cork, and put the bottle on her nightstand along with two sleeping tablets, her glasses, and three books. Then she drew the curtains and undressed, from the bottom up, laid her clothes on a chair and put on a nightdress and slippers. She brushed her teeth in the sink, wound the clock, saw that it said eleven o’clock, put it on the night table, turned on the radio, turned it off again, sat on the edge of the bed for ten minutes, removed her slippers, and crawled under the covers.
    She put on her glasses and began reading the first chapter of the uppermost book. After four pages, she took the second book, read for a while in the middle, set it aside and opened the third book. Sometimes she read a sentence several times and sometimes she skipped a page or a couple of pages. It was very quiet, only a faintbanging in the heat pipes now and then. At twelve thirty, her eyes grew tired and sleep approached, beginning in her legs. Quickly, she put her glasses and the book on the nightstand, turned off the light and turned to the wall. Immediately, and for the first time that night, she began going through everything she had said and left unsaid that day, everything she had done and not done.
    She turned on the light, picked up one of the tablets, opened the bottle, swallowed the pill with Vichy water, turned off the light, and lay back down with her face to the wall.
    Half an hour later, she turned on the light again, put on her glasses, opened her book, and read a chapter towards the end. She put the book and her glasses on the floor, turned out the light and pulled the covers over her head.
    Twenty minutes later, she turned on the light and got up, opened the inner window, took out a packet of greaseproof paper and unwrapped the bread, sausage and cheese. She ate standing at the window. The snow lay quite deep against the windowpanes. It was snowing outside. When she had finished eating, she swallowed the other tablet with Vichy water but did not close the inner window, because the room was very warm. She lay down and turned out the light.
    An hour later, she turned it on again, took off her nightdress and started walking about the room. She went to the sink, filled an enamel pitcher with water and watered her plants, took a sponge and dried the water that had run out on the windowsill and left the sponge lying by the window. She lay down and turned out the light.
    About an hour later, she got up without turning on the light, turned on the radio, and turned it off again. She heard the lift, and right afterwards the newspaper came through the letterbox. She turned on the light, pulled out the top drawer of her bureau, took out stationery and a pen, and sat down on the bed. Ten minutes later, she put the paper and pen on the floor, went to the window and saw that it had stopped snowing. She turned off the light and lay down in the bed. She heard the lift again, but the heating pipes had stopped banging. Sleep drew near and her body grew heavy, sank as if with an enormous weight, and she stopped thinking and slept.
    Half an hour later, she lit the lamp and looked at the clock. She got up and went to the sink and brushed her teeth. She dressed from the top down and put on water for tea. Then she looked at the clock again and realised she’d read it wrong because she hadn’t been wearing her glasses. She turned off the tea water, went to the sink, filled the enamel jug, and remembered that she’d already watered the