Ordinary pencil

Here in Iran, people trade their lives with nothing. Everybody is running from early morning till late in the night. And at the end of a day, you've done nothing important for your life. You have just spent your time, no satisfaction.

And, of course, there are some people who do believe in their job here. They work and fight for the things they believe.

Remember the "ordinary pencil" by "Klyuev"? Yes. It reminds me the story of the pencil who was writing all his life. He spent the whole life on writing stories about a princess but nobody was willing to read them. He wrote willingly and traded his body with some heartful words. You know, he wrote the first story when he was big.
Shorter and shorter night by night, it was the time to write the last story. Then he died...

And a few seconds later, all the papers flew. To the sky. To his best friend, the moon...