The boy king got bored of looking out his window. Why did he have to rule the desert? Why couldnt he rule the jungle or the mountains? He ordered the peasants to paint the hills. He wanted his kingdom to shine. They painted for days, they painted until slowly their hair became blue, their hands pink. They painted for months until the day it rained, and then they only stopped when the colour ran off the hills out to the sea. The boy king raged. His beautiful kingdom was gone, now all that was left was the brown dirt. He called the peasants to come to him. Slowly as they crossed the brown hills he saw that they were beautiful. The colour from the hills had covered them…

(Photo: Bolivian/Chilean Border, South America)

1. missbrigid liked this
2. jessede liked this
3. flakemusic posted this