The Little Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupéry (Not A Review)

I don't believe in magic...

No. Something shouldn't start like this. It's not a bold statement. Many people don't believe in magic. 

Let's paraphrase that: "Many adults don't believe in magic." 

This is not so weird or unprecedented. The longer you live, the more you start to believe you know how the world works. And with time, those creatures under the bed become just an empty space to store shoes, magazines, and whatever stuff you feel like keeping out of sight. Those noises outside stop being the Boogeyman and become something far more real—maybe a burglar or a wild animal going through your trash, hoping to find sustenance in yesterday's garbage.
This is normal. It's a part of growing up. It's part of joining the group of serious, no-nonsense adults.
But then comes along something so unique, so out of the norm, that it sticks with you, and in most cases, forever. 

In my case, that is Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's book, "The Little Prince," published on April 6th, 1943—80 years ago. I often wonder if Exupery knew that he wrote something that would last for an eternity. Something that would change people's lives in such a way that they would never forget its lessons. Shamefully, I have to admit that the first time I read it, I was 25. There is a reason for it: up until then, I only saw it as a children's book. And I was part of the group of serious, no-nonsense adults. Of course, I wouldn't read it. Then... I was nearly forced to read it by a friend who knew about my passion for reading. And I did. And I cried. I cried like a child because I felt ashamed. Here was the book that had the words I longed to hear. Here it was, something that would be imprinted within me for as long as I remember, with lessons that I would carry and try to live by until the great void comes to take me.

I could go on and on. "The Little Prince" has been studied, reviewed, and published until infinity. Greater minds than mine have dissected it and torn it apart, trying to understand its meaning.

So, this is not so much a review as my own thoughts on it. And how, can you tell me, could I review it?

So, once again, I don't believe in magic, but I do believe that out there, there is a little boy with blond hair who asked too many questions but never answered any. A boy who befriended a fox, despite all odds. And I hope he is smiling next to his rose.

Thank you, Exupery.

Text by C.M.V.R (MySoulToTake)

Art by C.M.V.R (MySoulToTake)