The Beggar and the Hare

The Beggar and the Hare

Tuomas Kyrö

Language: English

Pages: 225

ISBN: B00ICO1NPM

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Vatanescu is striving for a better life, and with it a pair of football boots for his son - but his search has led him to collecting small change on the streets of Helsinki, and he needs something drastic to change his fortunes. His lucky break comes when a fellow outcast - a hare with an injured paw - hops into his life. In rescuing the little creature from certain death, he finds not just a companion, but a source of unexpected inspiration and wisdom. Together, the beggar and the hare embark on an adventure that is both funny and absurd. Theirs is a moving story about the meaning of friendship, with the power to change the way we see ourselves.

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Vatanescu, after standing before him for several minutes. Continuing, Ming said he was a stubborn small businessman who had to pay an exorbitant rent that was the equivalent of wages for five people, and it would be nice to be able to get some sleep occasionally. Sometimes it might even be nice to pay himself a wage. That was why childish tricks played by adults merely provoked him. Vatanescu told Ming in English that he didn’t understand Chinese, or was it Cantonese or Mandarin. Ling Irmeli

way of expressing himself, in drunken chatter. Meanwhile, the rabbit jumped up on Mrs Pykström’s lap to watch a game show on TV, and the men went off to the sauna. Pykström got three tubs of water ready and poured a can of beer on the stones in the sauna heater. The heat spread with the smell of grain, forcing its way into Vatanescu’s lungs and under his skin. He bowed his head and held his breath. Pykström produced a whip made of twigs and told Vatanescu to turn his back to him. Don’t hit

‘“… arise, ye citizens of want…”’ At school, in neat rows, they all had to sing and they all did. The words didn’t matter at all, because it was all about feeling. Music pierces the armour, it penetrates deeper than reason. ‘“And the last fight let us face!”’ The echo spread through the sauna in two languages, and through the universe, too. It spread up the hill, in through the triple-glazed windows of Harri Pykström’s pine log villa to the windowsill where the rabbit was asleep. ‘“The

‘That used to be the Pallas Fells. Tomorrow there will be a hotel there. The old hills have been put out to grass; they’re going to make a giant slope out of them. Ski-lifts, a ski-jump, a downhill ski-slope.’ Listen! Really… there are masses… of yellow berries… They’re safe there, I’ve hidden them. ‘Vatanescu,’ Õunap said, looking him in the eye. Well? ‘That cloudberry marsh.’ Yes? ‘They’ve made it into a car park.’ Water mingled with cement. The concrete bubbled. There were so many

audience wanted to hear more. ‘The man people want to hear gains a voice,’ Hamutta had said. ‘The man people want to hear gains a face. The man who acquires a face gains visibility. He’s in demand in the newspapers, on radio and TV. He gains votes in their hundreds of thousands.’ Simo Pahvi had heard the voice of Heikki Hamutta in a shopping mall in a remote suburb of the capital during the years when brown and yellow were fashionable and colour TV was in its infancy. Pahvi sat on the saddle of

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