Something had finally caught his eyes on the old man’s counter: a few colourful papers. The papers were divided into lined rectangles and each of them had pictures in them and white bubbles with written words inside them. He had recognised the writings since he had seen written font before. A Saviour Missioner that had come to their ship had shown them what it was to write by drawing the letters with a carbon stick on a piece of paper. Tirad had lifted up the papers from the counter and stared at the pictures. A man was in the pictures with a four-legged, white and hairy animal. The pictures had bright colours. The man in the pictures changed a little from one frame to the other, although it was the same man with short, yellow hair and a blue shirt. The old man had told Tirad that he could only buy one of the papers with his coin. Tirad had looked at the papers for a long time but he couldn’t choose between them. He had felt a touch on his bare and sun burnt shoulder. His father was standing behind him, worried for Tirad’s late return. Tirad had shown him the papers. His father had looked at them and said the papers are only good for burning and starting a fire. But Tirad explained to him what he had discovered: the movement of the man from one frame to the next and that the pictures were telling a story; they were not just papers, they were pages of a book. He had also pointed at the written words emphasising that the story of the pictures must have been written in the white bubbles. He had begged his father to buy him all the four pages and his father, even though he was unsure of the worth of the papers, had bought them for Tirad after a good discount given to him by the old man.

Tirad and his father had spent the night in Oxan. Tirad wouldn’t go to sleep. He had stayed awake the whole night looking at the colourful pictures and making up their stories. Each time, he would come up with a new story for the pictures. And he would narrate them loudly and passionately for his father and his fellow fishermen. His father’s friends encouraged him to try the boy’s luck in the Saviour Ship since he was imaginative and eager to read and too weak for sea work. The next day, Tirad’s father took him to Hurmaz who was at the time a Saviour Missioner in Oxan. He had explained to Hurmaz that the boy’s mother had died and because of his heart problem, he could never work on the sea. He had asked Tirad to show Hurmaz the papers and the boy excited of having a new audience, was happy to come up with a new story for the pictures. His father had said goodbye the same day and left him to the care of Hurmaz. Tirad was too engaged with the pages to take notice of his father’s goodbye. The next day, he had travelled to the Saviour Ship with Hurmaz. The first few nights on the ship, although his papers still amused him but his father’s absence had made him restless. Hurmaz had ordered one of the ship’s maids to take care of Tirad and to put him to sleep in her cabin besides Lealy, another child who was recently brought to the ship. But Tirad wouldn’t stop crying, he wouldn’t eat or sleep and no matter how hard the maid tried, he wouldn’t calm down. She had taken him to Hurmaz with his papers tightly embraced in his arms. Hurmaz had taken the papers from him and asked him if he ever wanted to know the true story of the picture? Whether he wanted to learn how to read? Tirad had wiped his nose with the back of his hand and nodded. Hurmaz had told him to calm down and start his lessons from the next morning and his words were like cool water putting out a flame in Tirad’s heart.