69 The Wind That Pass

The wind was blowing hard in a green valley. Grass as high as a human's head was waving like a group of dancers. A small flag stuck on a high pole in white and a red crest roared in the direction of the wind. Fluttering with so much spirit against the wind.

A small child running in the middle of the valley pulled the string of his kite that had been flying high far above the sky, which was slowly starting to lose its light. His face was very cheerful as if flying along with a kite that was wider than his body. The sweet face of the boy who was about six years old was as beautiful as the late afternoon sun slowly showing its orange color. He had run far enough against the wind so that his kite could soar high, and feel tired of it. But he didn't care, from the look in his shining eyes, it was such a great feeling of satisfaction.