I climbed. Higher and higher and higher. I didn't bother looking back. Why would I? I knew what that world held for me. A poor, boring life of farming. The same thing day after day after day. But the sky held adventure. The sky was mine to explore and to develop. If my creations were still there, I could add to them. If they were gone, erased by the movement of my kingdom, fine. I would begin again and each day create something new. My beanstalk thinned as I drew nearer to the clouds. Finally I touched their misty undersides and entered the thick fog that was the tunnel to my freedom.
I emerged.
All was as I had left it. Bright, shining, sculpted in my weak, inexperienced hand. I thrilled with delight. My refuge was brilliant; soon it would become perfect. I had no doubt that in time, my kingdom in the clouds would be the most glorious anyone had ever seen.
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