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Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky!
Jane Taylor (1783- 1827)
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It was in this kind of city that the story of Momo took place.
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"So… you like it here, do you?"
Momo nodded.
"And you want to stay here?"
"Yes, very much."
"I mean, shouldn't you go home?"
"This is my home," Momo said promptly.
"But where do you come from?"
Momo gestured vaguely at some undefined spot in the far distance.
"When were you born?"
"As far as I can remember... I've always been around."
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"How old are you really?"
Momo hesitated. "A hundred," she said.
They all laughed because they thought she was joking.
"No seriously, how old are you?"
"A hundred and two," Momo replied, still more hesitantly.
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Momo's installation in the old amphitheatre was celebrated as zestfully as only the poor of this world know how.
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She became so important to them that they wondered how they had ever managed without her in the past. And the longer she stayed with them, the more indispensable she became so indispensable, in fact that their one fear was that she might some day move on.
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Lots of things take time, and time was Momo's only form of wealth.
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Momo was staring at them wide-eyed, but neither man quite knew how to interprete her gaze... Although her expression gave no clue, they suddenly seems to see themselves mirrored in her eyes and began to feel sheepish.
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"Be honest, Salvatore, did you or didn't you know about the money before we made the deal."
"Of course I knew, or I wouldn't have gone through with it."
"In other words, you diddled me."
"What? You mean you really didn't know about the money?"
"No, I swear I didn't."
"There you are, then! It was you that tried to diddle me, or you wouldn't have taken my radio in exchange for a worthless scrap of newsprint."
"Was it a lot of money?"
"Only what my radio was worth."
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Momo listened to everyone and everything... even to the rain and the wind and the pine trees - and all of them spoke to her after their own fashion.
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Many were the evenings when... she would sit by herself in the middle of the old stoe amphitheatre, with the sky's starry vault overhead, and simply listen to the great silence around her.
Whenever she did this, she felt she was sitting at the centre of a giant ear, listening to the world of the Stars... On nights like these, she always had the most beautiful dreams.
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Those who still think listening isn't an art should see of they can do it half as well.
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Momo was there and joined in, that was all, but for some reason her mere presence put bright ideas into their heads.
[Michael Ende]
Posudjeno sa - [Link mogu videti samo ulogovani korisnici] (ima tamo jos) 
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Da li je ko imao priliku da cita djela ovog pisa. Ja eno dobih "The Neverending Story" ali sam nacula da je Momo "bolja". Trenutno sam "upetljana" u nekoliko knjiga, tako da ne mogu da zapocnem jos jednu, ali radoznalost mi neda mira ... Iko? Ista? ... Bilo sta? 
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