The wise old stork, who liked to travel to the coast some days was balanced on the top of a long television ariel in the town of San Fernando, admiring the full moon on the horizon, coloured peach and flamingo blush, as it rose over the marshes.
Across the town, he saw, in one of the many blocks of flats, a light on at one of the windows where a young boy was sitting at his desk. He could see the boy was studying. He could see the boy was tired and fed up.
The stork stretched his wings and looked back out at the horizon again. He watched as the moon grew from light pink to feint cream to a glowing macaroon as surrounded by a thousand changing shades of blue that draped across the town, dusk fell deeper into the night.
The stork knew how the boy was feeling. He knew that he would be filled with self doubt, anxiety and confusion but he also knew that as long as the boy toiled then from this turmoil he would grow and illuminate the world, much like the moon had that evening.
The boy would learn this over time.