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When I was only six years old, in a book called "True Stories" about the old forest, I saw a wonderful illustration of a boa constrictor devouring a large beast. At the top of the page was a facsimile of the painting.

"The boa constrictors swallow their prey whole without chewing, and are then immobilized; they digest it during a long six-month sleep," the book says.

At the time, I was thinking a lot about my adventures in the jungle, so I also made my first drawings with colored pencils. My number one work. It goes like this: I show this masterpiece of mine to grown-ups, and I ask them if my painting frightens them.

They answered me: "What's so terrible about a hat?"

What I drew was not a hat, but a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. So I drew the situation in the python's stomach again so that adults could understand it. These grown-ups always need explanations. My second number works like this:

The grown-ups advised me to put aside these pictures of boa constrictors with open or closed bellies, and to focus on geography, history, arithmetic, grammar. In this way, at the age of six, I gave up the wonderful profession of being a painter. The failure of my No. 1 and No. 2 works discouraged me. Thesegrown-ups don't understand anything on their own, and they have to be constantly explaining things to them. It really bores the kids.

Later, I had no choice but to choose another profession. I learned to fly a plane and have flown almost all over the world. Indeed, geography has helped me a great deal. I can tell China from Arizona at a glance. This is useful if you get lost at night.

Thus, in my life I have had many contacts with many serious people. I've lived a long time among grown-ups. I have observedthem carefully, but this has not changed my opinion of them much.

When I meet a grown-up who seems to be a little clearer, I take out my No. 1 work that I have always kept to test him. I wonder if he really has the ability to understand. But the answer was always: "It's a hat." I didn't talk to him about pythons, primeval forests, or stars. I had to accommodate them and talk to them about bridge, golf, politics, ties, and so on. The grown-ups were then very glad to know such a reasonable person as me.

I was living alone, with no one I could really talk to, until that breakdown in the Sahara six years ago. Something is broken in my engine. Since I had neither a mechanic nor a passenger with me, I attempted to perform this difficult maintenance work alone. It's a matter of life and death for me. The water I carry with me is only enough for a week.

On the first night, I slept on this big desert far away from human fireworks. I am lonelier than a shipwreck on a raft in the middle of the sea. And you can imagine my surprise when a strange little voice woke me up at dawn the next day. The little voice said:"Draw me a sheep, please?" "Ah!" "Draw me a sheep..."

I stood up all of a sudden, as if I was being bombarded by thunder. I rubbed my eyes vigorously and lookedcarefully. I saw a very strange little fellow staring at me seriously. This is the best portrait I ever made of him. But, of course, my picture is much inferior to his own appearance. It's not my fault. At the age of six, grown-ups discouraged me from my career as a painter, and I never learned to draw, except boa constrictors with open bellies and closed bellies.

My eyes widened in amazement at the sudden appearance of the little guy. Don't you forget, I was in a place thousands of miles away from people.And this little guy gave me the impression that he neither looks lost, nor does he look tired, hungry, or scared. He didn't look like a child lost in the middle of nowhere in the desert. When at last I was able to speak again in my astonishment, I said tohim:
"Oh, what are you doing here?" But he calmly, as if he had something important to do, repeated to me:"Please... draw me a sheep..."
When a mysterious thing overwhelms you, you dare not disobey it. In this uninhabited desert, facing the danger of death, although such a behavior makes me feel very absurd , I still took out a piece of paper and a pen. At this time, I remembered that I hadonly studied geography, history, arithmetic and grammar, so I told the little guy that I couldn't draw. He answered me:
"It's okay, just draw me a sheep!"
Since I have never drawn a sheep, I repainted the boa constrictor with its belly closed in the two paintings I only know how to draw.
"No, no! I don't want a boa constrictor. It has an elephant in its stomach."
I was dumbfounded when I heard his words. He went on: "The python is too dangerous and the elephant takes up too much space. I live in a very small place and I need a sheep. Draw me a sheep."
I just drew him.
He watched intently, and then said:"I don't want it. The sheep is very sick. Draw me a new one.
"I started drawing again.
My friend smiled innocently and cutely, and politely refused: "Look, what you drew is not a lamb, but a ram with horns.
"So I drew another one.
This painting, like the previous ones, was rejected again."This one is too old. I want a sheep that will live.
"I'm getting impatient. As I was in a hurry to overhaul the engine, Isketched the picture and said to him hastily:

"This is a box, and the sheep you want is inside."
At this moment I was very surprised to see my little judge beaming with joy. He said:
"That's exactly what I want, . . . You say this sheep needs a lot of grass?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because my place is very small..."
"What I drew for you is a very small lamb, and the place is small enough to feed it."
He put his head close to the picture.
"It's not as small as you say... Look! It's asleep..."
In this way, I met the little prince.