brightly coloured and they move a little. He reaches up to them but they are too far away to touch. They look like they are dancing up and down, up and down. They dazzle him and his eyes follow them even though he can't make out their shapes.
The voices he heard before are getting closer and closer. One of the figures is approaching him, stepping slowly, gradually becoming less blurred. He focusses on the part of the person that will be just higher than the bars of his cot and he sees bright white. The voice is deep and reassuring. He feels so happy. He makes a happy noise in his throat and looks up at the bright dangling objects. The person is now leaning over him, the white pressed against the rail of his cot, but he looks up and in the place where a face should be there is only a blur. Faces, and colourful objects like the ones dancing over him, are always a blur; they seem to have been cut right out of his memory. The person picks him out of his cot with strong hands. He feels so safe and so happy that he falls asleep with his cheek against the bright white.
Now Muko is in the kindergarten. He is sitting on a little red chair by the window. He looks round the classroom and there are lots of groups of children playing together. A large figure, much taller than the children, reaches past him to take