Ken's Big Dream
Ken wants to be a painter
The next day, I met Ken by the river again.
His face looked sad and very tired.
"What is wrong?" I asked him gently.
"I want to be a ," Ken said.
"I want to the sea and the sky."
"But my father wants me to work on the farm."
"He does not like my paintings," Ken said.
"Yesterday, he threw my brushes away," Ken added.
Ken looked down at his empty, quiet hands.
"My family wants me to be a ."
"They want a and simple life for me."
"But I want to my own ," he said.
I listened quietly and did not speak.
I remembered my grandfather's home very well.
There were no paintings on his walls.
Maybe Ken gave up his big long ago.
That sad thought made my chest feel heavy.
Ken picked up a small from his bag.
He drew the river with quick, soft lines.
His eyes shone brightly while he was drawing.
"I want to show the world beautiful things."
I saw real love inside his tired eyes.
"Your is ," I wanted to say.
But I only nodded and stayed silent.