1. Whispered dreams

The flame of a candle illuminated the blurred outlines of a rusty bunk bed. The full moon slipped lightly into the room, its bright rays filtered through the half-open window, spying on the lively faces of two little girls hidden between the sheets. The curly, golden hair of one brushed the straight, dark hair of the other, who was busy leafing through the pages of a book. Her fingers ran fast, almost as fast as her absorbed eyes, between those lines of ink. Her flushed cheeks hid the dimples of barely suppressed laughter. An elbow made her look up from the pages:
"Be quiet, Belle, or they'll hear us!"
The little blonde girl, after whispering her wise warning, emerged from the sheets for a moment, peering towards the other beds that occupied the room. She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that the others were sleeping undisturbed, and lay back down with her legs in the air, full of enthusiasm again.
"Keep reading! I want to know what happens to Peter!"
Belle's red lips parted in a knowing smile:
"Oh, yes! Me too... But Smee makes me laugh too much..."
Another muffled laugh from both of them filled the silence, and then the story came to life again, between whispered words and journeys into the imagination.

After a good half hour, little Belle was still absorbed in reading, and would continue for hours. She shifted her gaze to her companion in adventures, only then noticing her eyes now half closed due to tiredness. Her golden curls were abandoned on the pillow, while the sheet covered her upturned nose. It rose and fell with his breathing.
"Okay, Jane, I'll leave you to dreamland..."
She tucked the covers over her shoulders, revealing her heart-shaped face. She blew out the lantern and placed it in the drawer of the old dresser. She stopped for a moment to observe the sky, dotted with stars. She looked down at the sleeping city. The moon sketched the outlines of the houses, silent guardian of the skies. At least in the dark, poverty was hidden by the shadows of the night. In the distance, however, the buildings of the center stood out, illuminated by electric light. They looked down from above, dominating beyond the walls with their arrogance. Belle stood up, still watching them, and climbed upstairs to the bunk bed. From there the buildings were only small and distant, but the moonlight still dominated undisturbed. In the end she was the undisputed master of the night. The nightgown rose with a rustle and then settled on the sheets, as Belle finally curled up on the thin mattress. She raised her arms, still holding her book in her hands. She admired the cover from the dim light, illuminated by the thin rays of the moon. A little girl with a simple bow in her hair was flying over a sleeping London... Next to her a boy with a mocking smile was pointing to two stars, or rather, he was pointing to the second star on the right.

Belle sighed, her fingers touching those golden embroideries on the cover. She imagined she could touch the windowsill and fly away, beyond the walls, beyond the electric lights, beyond that world of fiction. She was sure that one day it would happen: adventure would take the place of the monotony and dry conventions of that world, which she hated with all her being. With that conviction, she put the book under the pillow and abandoned herself to dreams, without stopping smiling.

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