text: Long ago, in a country far away, there lived a foolish boy blessed with riches far bigger than anyone could've imagined. The piles of gold and jewels he had towered over even the highest towers and would spill out if filled in the biggest lake. A handful of gold was enough to trade him a year's worth of food. A bag of jewels gave him a house that echoed whenever he walked inside. The villagers near his house complained how unfair it was that a child owned so much gold. He hadn't earned it, he was born into it. It was all thanks to his late parents. It wasn't something he had achieved himself. The boy pondered over what they had said. It *was* a bit unfair that he had all this for himself. And he didn't really know what to do with all the gold besides letting it sit in his vault. Thinking what would be the best usage of the gold, the boy decided to give it to the villagers who complained. Every morning, before the sun even had woken up, he would fill his backpack with gold and jewels and travel to a village. It was a long walk and especially tough with all the heavy riches in his backpack. It would take him hours before he reached a village and when he arrived at the entrance, sweat would drip down from his nose tip and chin. Every noon, when the the sun stood at its proudest, the boy would walk around the village, looking for people who complained. He would approach them and hand them a little bit of the gold and jewels in his backpack. The people's faces would then instantly turn into big smiles, thanking him for his generosity and complimenting him for his kindness. Every night, when the moon yawned a soft glow, the boy would skip home and whistle to himself with a backpack as light as his heart. He did this every day and his richess in the vault shrunk. The piles were now as high as a castle. The gold filled half a lake. The city people had heard of his generosity and complained how it was unfair that only the villagers got his gold. There were people in need in the cities too, and he should pay them visits. The boy pondered over what the citizens had said. It *was* a bit unfair that the people in the cities didn't get his gold, so he decided to take longer trips. The boy bought a horse and a carriage. He filled backpack after backpack with so much gold and jewels that the seams almost burst and placed them in the carriage. When spring woke up and the grass peeked out from the layers of snow, the boy would travel to the cities. The roads were long and tiring. The boy had to encourage the horse to drag the heavy carriage, then he had to stay awake through the night and feed a fire to stave off the animals, who looked at the horse and the carriage with hungry eyes. When summer danced and the flowers played in the fields, the boy would enter a city. He handed out his gold and jewels, and the citizen's expressions switched to big, encouraging smiles, just like the villagers. When autumn reaped its harvests and the mushrooms bowed their hats to each other, the boy would travel back to his place. Tired and weary, but with a carriage as light as his heart. He would then curl up in his home and sleep soundly to winter's lullaby. The boy did this every year and his richness in the vault shrunk. The piles were now as big as tents. The gold could only fill a pool. The king of the country had heard of the boy's generosity and payed a personal visit. When the boy opened the door, he was taken aback by the king's face. It was the sourest face he had ever seen, as if the king had been fed lemons since birth. The king complained how it was unfair that the he, ruler of the country, didn't get any of the boy's richess while everyone else had. The king complained that it's unfair that a small child had such a big house. The king complained and complained. The boy pondered over what the king said. It *was* a bit unfair that everyone else but the king had gotten some of the boy's gold. The boy offered his last remains of richess in his vault and gave up his house, where the steps echoed in each room, and the king's sour face lit up into a big smile just like the villagers and citizens. The boy left the house with his horse and carriage. He wandered for half a day and arrived at a village, where he traded his last properties for a small room above an inn. When he prepared for bed, he heard people talk at the bar downstairs. The thin wooden floor barely stopped any of the voices and he could hear the guests clearly. He heard them complain. How it was unfair that no one gave them gold and jewels anymore. They complained that the boy should've handled his riches better, complained how stupid the boy was, complained how he should've just listened to *them* and not anyone else.