The story of a cowardly girl with Loredana Liperini, between impossible monsters and extraordinary cats

We are all afraid of something. There are those who fear the dark, some ghosts or storms. And Then there is Ari, who is afraid of everything. Her dreams are haunting Monsters at least say weird: Who would ever be frightened by a pink spider with a pipe or a snake with a jar on its head? Yet every morning the eyebrows are fading and the pillow is getting wet with tears.

Even monsters, it must be admitted, do not have an easy life: the frightened Ari Fahrenheit Loredana Liperini: The Tailed – The story of a cowardly girl, an impossible monster and an extraordinary cat, In bookstores for Salani, with images of Stefano Tambellini) Tired every night, and they definitely need a vacation. But Ori will soon realize, Fear of dreams is special and something special is needed to drive them away. Something like a cat! A cat without a tail, to be precise.

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Together with her, Ari will cross dreamland until she finds herself in the presence of an ancient band cat with the ability to save people from the most horrible nightmares.. And thanks to the help of her old friends – and the ghosts of a young woman in the past – she will discover all her courage. Fun and lively like a cat’s fissure: an adventure suspended between dreams and reality that awaits us to curl up and never leave us.

Loredana Liperini Senjakoda

Upstairs ilLibraio.itWe offer a quote courtesy of the publishing house:

(…)

For Ari, the panic started at the moment when the consciousness woke up. Every evening the sound of the house (mother’s footsteps, the chatter of the television, the sneeze of the father’s evening, very loud at eight forty-five) fades away like the waves of the sea, and he saw in his mind the globe of the earth, blue and white in the black sky. It wasn’t a dream yet: it was, in a sense, the opening song of a dream theme song, such as a movie and television series. In other words, when the earth appeared, Ari knew he had to stay awake, because what would happen next would scare him to death.

Ari wasn’t sure why it was a beautiful, peaceful-looking planet that appeared to her in her half-sleep, and not an elephant or a pyramid or a chocolate cake or a stick. He was like this for as long as he could remember: still in the dark, the sphere seemed to warn him if he did not keep his eyes open.
When opened well it would descend from the edge, the blue of the water and the white of the clouds below, and there was nothing but black outside, and in black they were, waiting for his arrival every night.

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Every night, Ari tried to resist. When the earth first appeared he would turn his back, forcing his eyes to look at the ceiling, even if they wanted to close at any cost: of course, rarely to communicate with the eyes, they are rebellious and independent, when suddenly there is a sound they open and the light is strong. If and when sleep is strong they stop. In fact, after a fight that seemed too long to Ari but lasted as long as a cat’s jaw, they closed every evening and reopened every morning. And Ari’s pillow would get wet with tears every morning.

“You’re pale,” said Ari’s mother, a sweet bun with milk, a bowl of fresh fruit and chocolate chips.
“Why do you need to sleep?” Ari asked, shaking the sandwich.
“Because our bodies need rest,” the mother replied, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a cell phone in the other. Ari always hoped that sooner or later one of those news stories would reveal how she would wake up, but then her mother never told her what she was reading, so she couldn’t find it, and she was too embarrassed to ask. Fifona, that was the right word. Then, after the bite he bites with a sip and as it happened when he was only eight years old, Ari forgot, and the morning would open in front of him like every day, and when the day was over all would start again and find Ari. In bed, in his plush pajamas. It was winter, wearing a T-shirt and summer shorts, waiting for the blue and white balls to tell him not to sleep.

Ori could not understand who to tell. Not to his mother, who would answer ‘nonsense’ without looking at his cell phone. Not to his father, who would carry him in his arms as if he were still too young, repeating, in a kind voice, the same thing, ‘meaningless’. Of course not to Pips, his brother, who really was, was very young and he would kiss one of his dinosaurs with saliva on his cheek while holding his hand to play. Sooner or later she would tell her friends, but she knew they could not help her. Because Ari’s problem was not dark. The problem was what was inside.

(Continue to Library …)

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