Once upon a time there lived a painter. The village he lived in was rather peculiar to say the least. Everything was dull in colour; from the sky to the sea, and every animal was literally in grey-scale. The painter had a unique gift that he had received from another man from a far away land. It was a paint brush, but unlike other paint brushes in the village this paint brush shined brighter than diamonds and was more colorful than a rainbow. It was fabulous. With this paint brush, the young painter was finally able to do what he was called to do-to fill the village with colour. There was only one problem. The young painter did not want to stand out, no one had ever seen colour before how will they react. He was scared. Frightened, he couldn't sleep for days. Finally he chose to reject his calling. He didn't bother using the paint brush at all. Not even on himself or his house, the young painter just lived a dull life. Just like everything in the village. Kept in the box under the bed of the young painter the paint brush laid. Motionless it stayed, but it did change. Without being used the colour faded and one day it became the colour of everything else in the village. The colour dull.
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