On a white sheet of paper lived a black spot.
“What am I?” it asked.
It tried to be an ant. But it had no legs.
It tried to be a ball. But it wasn’t perfectly round.
It tried to be a night. But it was too small.
The spot shrank into a corner.
Then a blue line arrived.
“I am a river,” it said.
Then a green triangle arrived.
“I am a mountain.”
And a handful of yellow dots whispered:
“We are towns with our lights on.”
“And me?” asked the spot.
The river flowed around it. The mountain came closer. The towns formed a path to its shore.
“You are the island we want to reach.”
The spot looked at the sheet of paper. It was no longer empty: it was a map.
And in the middle of the map, without changing anything, it pointed to a new place.
