There was a town in the vale, full of white picket fences and clapboard houses with patriotic flags out front. Vibrant colors of blue, red, green, yellow, and brown filled this part of the vale.

The boy entered the town barefoot and warm, tired and dirty, but happy and beliving. He was set upon by a stranger in a suit and a tie and clean brown shoes. He took the boy in and when he left, the boy came away with blue overalls in his creamy linen shirt and yellow hair.

They boy had to eat, so he offered his services as a gardener and the family fed him meatloaf in payment. He left them with brown stains from the meat on his now less than clean creamy linen shirt, green grass stains on his blue overalls, and his golden-yellow head still shining.

The boy picked up his stick and walked on, content with food and sun and work. He was on his way out of town when the sun began to set and the ground was again cool under his feet. The man stepped out from the now lengthening shadows and slapped the boy across the face with no aparant reason. He fell to the ground and a bright red stain spread across the white, the yellow, the green, the brown, and finally the blue. The cycle was complete.