"Can I go with you?"

"No."

The silence felt bigger after he spoke.

"Why?"

He was eight years old. He wanted an answer. He needed an answer.

"How many times do I have to tell you we don't fit out there. Is not built for you, nor for me. You stay here and wait for me as always. I promise I'll take you to the cliff when I come back."

His innocent heart burnt in happiness. He loved going to the cliff. It was wide, he could stare at the immense blue sea for hours. And now he wanted to sketch it. He wished he had colours to illustrate the blue ocean tones.

Perhaps it was time to tell him that he could draw things. He didn't know about the world, but he knew about art and painting. He had read tons of books and watched tons of images. He never thought he could draw a line, until he found that notebook and followed carefully the lines already drawn with the tip of his fingers, he memorized them and reproduce it on the back of the paper sheet. That became his new pastime.

"I can draw." He said, staring at his father's boots.

He looked at the kid sternly, then left.

A/N: This few pieces of flashbacks will be useful to solve some part of the puzzle. Be patient and you will see...
;))