
The night breathed through the apartment like a dark animal. The ticking of a clock. The groan of a floorboard as he slipped out of his room. All was drowned by its silence. But Jacob loved the night. He felt it on his skin like a promise. Like a cloak woven from freedom and danger.
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Cornelia Funke
Schriftsteller & Dichter
Dunkelheit
Nacht
Tintenherz
Tintenblut
Tintentod