The brown eyed carpenter sat on a tree stomp, having his cigarette on and busily tying his thoughts on a pair of butterfly dancing around a group of lilies near there. Then the girl from yesterday came.
“Good morning, Ser,” she brought a package in her hand and gave it to the man.
“You can open it later. Anyway sir I have always wanted to ask something since yesterday, is your daughter beautiful?”
The bearded man frowned, “Of course she is. Why?”
Smirking, the little girl skipped a few steps on to the lilies and picked one. “I envy them Ser, they are just born beautiful from the beginning, they are gifted, look at those yellows, oh so pretty!”
A wagon filled with air passing by along the street near there, with an old man pulling it. The old man waved at them. The carpenter claimed to know him. His name was Eddie and he was a mushroom hunter. The carpenter told her that Eddie used to have a daughter, died in an accident. Then the girl asked, “So you have seen his little daughter at least once, who do you think is more beautiful, me or her?”
“I don’t know, dear. I don’t even know you both enough.”
“What do you mean, Ser? You have seen us both so you have to be able to easily decide which is more beautiful between us, right?” she pushed.
Smiling, he threw his glance over a caravan of flycatchers above, “Dear, little girl, whoever you are, what is beautiful in one’s eyes cannot be acquired by what is seen by an instant glance. Those lilies have survived many storms in their living time before you can tell them how beautiful they are. True beauty is not born, it is achieved.
And also, it might appeal that you are not beautiful in my eyes, but you must be beautiful in someone else’s. So is everyone else,”
The man took another roll of cigarette and continued, “There’s not need to worry about your beauty, embrace yourself, you can be beautiful however you are.”
Saying goodbye, they parted.