The Fool's Journey Part 1

There was once a fool. He lived and died, just like other mortals. He would go swing his foot to places never been walked before-not by people, but by him-and write journals of things that he saw. The fool was not of the greatest wisdom, but he was arguably one with the greatest joy.

The fool would come out of his hut every morning to count the drops of dew he could see on the old tapestry hung outside (that he said would scare evil spirits away, for it was a ghastly worn out tapestry and smelt like old bad cheese). He would proclaim the drops of dew as the unfortunate evil spirits that couldn’t help but got caught by the power of the old tapestry. When he finished counting, he would feel happy about it and start counting the good things that he got the whole day after that. And the number must be greater than the the drops of dew’s.

When night fell, the fool would again, go out and count the stars. He would do until he couldn’t open his eyes anymore,  he would stop and write down the numbers on the wall. Whenever he wrote down a highest score, he would be joyful and dance and prance about it, believing that what he did had pleased the people of the distant skies, and they decided to appear before him.

So he would speak to the star, after counting. He would speak to them about things that he saw that day, for he believed that the people of the distant skies would not be able to clearly see the beauty of his beloved wood. They could not taste the delicious mushroom he ate everyday, they will never do. They could not jump freely into the clear river that never ran dry the whole year. Clearly, they never had such fun that he had.

So he would speak, proudly and happily, believing that he was much happier and luckier than the people of the distant skies. And when the stars flicker, he would laugh, for he believed that they were jealous. He would then apologise for being rude, and send them a kiss, before closing the window, putting the lights off, and sleep silently.