a flower which a little sheep can eat easily, you think that this is not important?”
His face was now red and he continued. “If somebody loves a flower which is the only flower among all the millions and millions of stars,
that’s enough for this person to be happy when he looks at the stars and he says to himself, ‘My flower is somewhere up there.’
But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it’s as if all the stars stopped shining. And you think that it’s not important?”
He couldn’t say another word. He started to cry. The night came.
I left my tools on the ground. How important could my tools, my engine, my death be now?
On one star, on one planet, on my planet, the Earth, there was a little prince who needed my attention.
I took him in my arms. I held him gently. I said to him, “The flower which you love is not in danger.
I will draw you something to protect your flower. I will draw you a fence. You can put the fence around you flower. I will…”
I didn’t know what to say to him. I felt uncomfortable.
I didn’t know how to talk to him, how to be his friend again.
It’s so mysterious, the moment when somebody cries.
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