The boy and his mountain
Sit and I will tell you a story. It is a story about a boy who couldn’t climb trees, so he climbed mountains. His playmates (if he ever had any) teased him; “You can’t even climb a pine, you are dumber than a porcupine!” they sang loudly. So the boy silently decided that he will climb, only something bigger and higher than a pine and more massive than an oak - a rock, a cliff, a mountain. Every day he would look up from his house’s window and stare at the mountain with awe.
So there there was a mountain:
And there there was the boy:
He left his hometown situated at the feet of the mountain, where the church bells rang pleasantly every hour and the sun shimmered in gold on the large hay rolls.
And he climbed until the town seemed small, and the people in it could not be seen:
He thought he might stop there, as no one of the town folk has ever been so high up the mountain, and he didn’t know where to go and what to expect; but the mountain top compelled him.
So he climbed higher
And higher
At this altitude, trees were becoming scarce, making way for light grey rock.
Eventually, the boy's legs bent underneath him from fatigue, as he found himself in a mountain saddle between two peaks, still far from the top. There he pitched his tent:
A painter who happened to pass by made this sketch
The sun was setting down:
Black birds of prey walked about fearlessly (what did they have to fear?) near the boy, circling around his tent and glancing at him with interest:
It was cold at such altitude, and the boy remembered with gratitude an advice his older sister once gave him: “if it’s very cold and you are on the road, take all the things out of your bag and use the bag to cover yourself at night”. Even with the bag, the cold woke the boy up near morning and didn’t let him fall asleep. With the first rays of sun, the boy climbed to the top of the mountain. From the top many other mountains could be seen, and the boy promised himself that one day he would climb them all. In the meanwhile, he began his descent.
He saw many interesting sights on the way. A mountain cow, a flying man, waterfalls and many other wonderful things, which he couldn’t remember all.
And when he finally descended into the valley, he saw a marvellous mountain lake, whose waters were even bluer than the skies above.
Suddenly, he wasn’t sure whether climbing the mountain is indeed more difficult than climbing a pine.
And when it was time to go home, he left reluctantly, carrying the images in a little black box on his chest. He promised himself that he would try to get along with his playmates better, even if it meant earnestly trying to learn the hard art of climbing trees.
So there there was a mountain:
And there there was the boy:
He left his hometown situated at the feet of the mountain, where the church bells rang pleasantly every hour and the sun shimmered in gold on the large hay rolls.
And he climbed until the town seemed small, and the people in it could not be seen:
He thought he might stop there, as no one of the town folk has ever been so high up the mountain, and he didn’t know where to go and what to expect; but the mountain top compelled him.
So he climbed higher
And higher
At this altitude, trees were becoming scarce, making way for light grey rock.
Eventually, the boy's legs bent underneath him from fatigue, as he found himself in a mountain saddle between two peaks, still far from the top. There he pitched his tent:
A painter who happened to pass by made this sketch
The sun was setting down:
Black birds of prey walked about fearlessly (what did they have to fear?) near the boy, circling around his tent and glancing at him with interest:
It was cold at such altitude, and the boy remembered with gratitude an advice his older sister once gave him: “if it’s very cold and you are on the road, take all the things out of your bag and use the bag to cover yourself at night”. Even with the bag, the cold woke the boy up near morning and didn’t let him fall asleep. With the first rays of sun, the boy climbed to the top of the mountain. From the top many other mountains could be seen, and the boy promised himself that one day he would climb them all. In the meanwhile, he began his descent.
He saw many interesting sights on the way. A mountain cow, a flying man, waterfalls and many other wonderful things, which he couldn’t remember all.
And when he finally descended into the valley, he saw a marvellous mountain lake, whose waters were even bluer than the skies above.
Suddenly, he wasn’t sure whether climbing the mountain is indeed more difficult than climbing a pine.
And when it was time to go home, he left reluctantly, carrying the images in a little black box on his chest. He promised himself that he would try to get along with his playmates better, even if it meant earnestly trying to learn the hard art of climbing trees.
