There was a boy who lived in a tower.

The boy had nothing in the tower. No books, no bed, nor a flower.

One day, the boy was wheeled outside on a gurney.

The man who set him free gave him a big basket and told him to fill it with things on his journey.

"Where am I going?" The boy asked.

"That is all up to you," said the man. "This basket is hollow just like you."

"Fill that basket to fill yourself. But do not care for pastries or gold or leather."

"Only take the gems that are light as a feather."

"Only take more of the one thing that first enters your basket."

The man disappeared and the boy blinked his eyes.

He found himself in a place with little houses and many people.

He couldn't possibly fill his basket with houses, nor people!

None of these were even light as a feather, nor did any of them look like gems.

He walked around and a girl came to sell him a flower.

The boy shook his head and said he had nothing to exchange for the flower.

The girl smiled and gave it to him for free.

Before he could thank her, the little girl had turned to flee.

The boy put the flower in his basket and continued on his trip.

He rested by the river and looked in his basket.

He caressed the petals but then they ripped!

He didn't throw it in the water and went back to the village to ask for another.

He saw the little girl, who said she didn't know him and turned to her mother.

He was confused, but he decided to go somewhere else.

He went to another village with a lot of horses.

He couldn't possibly fill his basket with horses!

He was welcomed by a nice grandpa and he asked for bread, but the grandpa gave him a yellow flower instead.

He didn't even want to put the bread in his container, but he supposed the man had thought he was a painter.

He couldn't paint the flower.

If only someone gave him painting tools, then maybe he could!

He took the flower and went to the next house.

It was a pretty lady who was wearing a blouse.

Just like her neighbor, she gave the boy a pink flower instead of water.

The boy visited every home and got a flower.

By the end of the day, his sweat was cold and sour.

A little kid who was littler than him asked him why he had flowers in his basket.

The boy shrugged and said, "It's the only thing that people ever give me."

So the little kid took a flower from his pocket and gave it to the boy.

When the boy tried to give back a flower, the little kid cried and did not jump for joy.

The boy asked why the little kid was sad, but the little kid was promptly fetched by his dad.

The boy slept under a tree that evening, and he woke up before the sun rose.

He wandered and continued to collect the flowers from those he met.

Of each color of flowers he could now make a set!

Some told him to stay for the night and handed him an armful or a handful of these beautiful lightweight gems.

He asked a granny why they gave him nothing but flowers, and she said,

"You help people by taking some flowers from them."

The boy, now older, asked, "Why do they get mad when I give them back a different flower?"

"You were sent by that man to collect flowers. Why should you give them back?"

'How did she know?' The boy thought.

When he turned around to ask, he saw that the granny was sound asleep.

And so the boy continued to walk and take and walk and take.

He couldn't even stop when he felt his body ache.

His basket grew heavier and heavier each day, and people stopped giving him a place to stay.

He knew the flowers were pretty but they were burdening his back.

So he settled on a field and set down the pack.

He stopped to smell the breeze and the flowers that once were full and airy and light, but now were rotten and dense and the smell was a fright.

He wondered why he was sent to collect flowers, but now he just wanted to take a rest.

He decided to empty his basket so he could start again tomorrow and do his best.

The boy, now older, turned the basket over.

But to his surprise, none of the flowers fell out.

His heart began to sow some seeds of doubt.

But he could not stop taking the flowers that people didn't want, for after all he was not at the end of his journey.

The boy continued to walk forward, piling his basket higher with flowers of different colors and shapes and sizes.

He passed by shops that sold bread and cake of different slices.

He saw a coin that fell on the ground, but it was so wrong for him to take it!

After all, the man told him only to gather the first thing he had put in his basket.

He saw a pouch made of leather, but he knew he couldn't take one no matter the weather.

The boy, now older, asked another for a flower.

He begged for anyone to give him a flower.

He wanted to give up and to return to the tower.

Yet he could not get rid of his hollowness if he stopped collecting.

He had to collect more flowers so he would not be hollow.

The older he got, the bigger the pile he carried on his back.

He was not even thirty, but he was hunched and his skin was dry and cracked.

He has circled the world, yet still he did not know why the man told him to do this.

He saw the same river he saw at the beginning.

The boy, now older, decided to sit by the riverbank he did quite miss.

With a sense of nostalgia, he bent to rest his weary legs.

Before he could squat, the heavy basket of flowers that was now much too heavy for a single boy to carry tilted forward and crushed him under its weight.