Valt inlägg:
The caravan moved across the desert and through the villages.
The wagons were painted bright colours; red, yellow, and blue.
The harnesses on the horses were studded with silver.
The caravan was rich and beautiful.
A wise experience man drove the lead wagon. Seated proudly beside him was his eight-year old son.
As they passed through the dusty little villages the scroungy, flea-bitten dogs would come out and bark at the caravan. The little boy once asked his father why he didn’t not do something about the barking dogs.
The father answered: “The dogs bark son, while the caravan moves on.”
And he continued, “remember my son, never stop a caravan to address a barking dog.”
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