Louis, seventy-eight years old, sat beneath an old banyan tree on the edge of the farm. A thin stick rested between his teeth, and the wind whispered through the tall grass around him. He watched the clouds drift above and said quietly,
> "It was then, when I was a child… that day changed everything."
His voice trembled like dry leaves.
The memory came back:
A small boy, barefoot, running across the fields, laughing as a dog chased after him. In the distance stood an old man — not his real father, but the one who had found him years ago, lying hungry in the streets.
"Father," young Louis asked, tilting his head, "why is the sky so blue?"
The old man smiled, setting down his hoe.
> "Ah, because nature loves beauty, my boy. The sky takes its color from the ocean — and the ocean keeps all the world's beautiful things deep inside."
Louis smiled softly. "Is that so?"
The old man nodded, looking toward the horizon. "Yes, Louis. Beauty hides in depth. Always remember that."