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There was a time when the Earth was a desert plain, where you looked there was sand, fields and nothing else. 

The sky was there, but it was the color of pot. Oceans were puddles and practically did not exist. 

The light wind blew hot smelling of abandon. In this dull place, the boy who invented the world emerged, walking without knowing where he came from or where he was going. 

Tired of the sameness, he created golden hummingbirds to brighten his path, trees that danced and turtles with wings. 

Above the open field he generated a smiling sun, further down a square moon and placed rectangular craters in it. 

Then he designed mountains with stairs, colorful deserts and oceans of gelatin. 

The woods and the jaguars he drew yellow on the ground. 

On the ground he also drew colorful valleys, strange and bizarre rivers, ice cream glaciers and heavy birds. 

In one gesture he made the swordfish, the frogs that jump rope and the owls that chirp blue. 

With a surprised cry he imagined the sound and distributed voices to the dogs and the rest of the critters. 

He made round buildings and submarine planes. 

Then he lay tired on the world, slept dreaming of stars, comets and sunflowers. 

He dreamed of miniature giraffes and speeding snails, toy factories, cotton candy hills, men and crops. 

His mother is nervous and distressed. 

She just came back from shopping and surprised him: sitting on the porch, the boy was playing coy, surrounded by weird animals and a rainbow coloring his entire body.

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