So I lived my life alone, without anyone that I could really talk to, until I had an accident with my plane in the Desert of Sahara, six years ago.
Something was broken in my engine.
And as I had with me neither a mechanic nor any passengers, I set myself to attempt the difficult repairs all alone.
It was a question of life or death for me: I had scarcely enough drinking water to last a week。
The first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any human habitation.
I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean.
Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise,when I was awakened by an odd little voice.
It said: “If you please– draw me a sheep!”
Draw me a sheep!
I jumped to my feet, completely thunderstruck. I blinked my eyes hard.
I looked carefully all around me。
And I saw a most extraordinary small person,who stood there examining me with great seriousness.
Here you may see the best portrait that, later, I was able to make of him。
But my drawing is certainly very much less charming than its model.
That, however, is not my fault.
The grown-ups discouraged me in my painter’s career when I was six years old, and I never learned to draw anything, except boas from the outside and boas from the inside.
Now I stared at this sudden apparition with my eyes fairly starting out of my head in astonishment.