"Grandmother sat in the magic forest and carved outlandish animals. She cut them from branches and driftwood, gave them paws and faces, but never made them too distinct. They retained their wooden souls, clinging to trees and branches with the enigmatic shape of growth itself, and remained part of the decaying forest.
And so the wooden animals were allowed to vanish into their forest, slipping deeper and deeper into each other's arms as time went by."
from 'The Summer Book', by Tove Jansson