The jacket flap speculates on whether Little Mops is a mole, a bear or a Hefalump, and we can't come any closer than that to identifying the hero of these three wordless, spare line picture books by a Polish artist living in France. At the seashore -- an endless, otherwise unpopulated beach, Little Mop makes friends with a bird whose egg he was about to cook. Elsewhere on a similarly bare landscape he comes across a number of tiny shoes belonging to a stick-and-circle centipede () who then climbs into a flower and emerges as a butterfly. His adventure with the moon consists of vain attempts to catch it in the sky above a mountain top and in the water below. Negligible, though sketched with assurance.