Momo is written in the most understandable language in the world, on the very one on which our first life lessons were written – the language of the fairy tale. And in a fairy tale there is a little girl belonging to the kind of people who are able not only to hear but also to isten. Momo knows how to do it so well that she can hear even the stars and her own heart. She listens so attentively that even other people begin to hear themselves.

But one day in the city there are Men in Grey  – employees of the Timesaving Bank. Gradually they take over the lives and time of all the inhabitants of the town, and people become angry, rude, they are in a hurry all the time in a foolish attempt to save time for real life, but soon, it seems, they forget about it absolutely and rush just out of habit, having not idea why.

This book will always be relevant, whenever it is written. The only question is, for how many people it would be relevant. The problems raised by Michael Ende always existed: for example, it is a problem of wasting time for nothing, of doing work that you don’t like and so on.

In children’s literature there are also anti-utopias. But fairy tales should have a good end. But this is not their only advantage. They also tell not only why everything has become so bad, but how to deal with it.

We constantly say that we do not have time. And we are right. But we do not see that we do not have time for life itself. Until we have time to meet friends, do what we have always dreamed of, go for a walk, just to enjoy nature around, to give time to the child, to person we love, to ourselves, we will not feel the joy of life. And what is the use of life in which all that we did was hurry and refuse to our dreams, feeding the invisible Men in Grey?

It is good when adults read such books. Children usually know everything that is written beforehand. Momo allows for a moment to stop in the midst of a hurrying crowd, look around and try to understand how we use our time? Are you spending it on what you want? Perhaps, among the hurrying crowd you can see the gray face of a man in a bowler hat. It is not difficult to recognize him: he always smokes a cigarette as gray as himself. And in its flame burn minutes, hours, days of your own life.