A Little Money Story.

It was that imaginary village again, in an unknown period of history and they did not have brushes. The notion of paint was not to be found on that village but all went good without it anyway.
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One day, the merchant that was visiting this village the last years, every year, forgot a brush of his tool chest on the fountain, in the middle of the only square of the village.
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They saw this, the villagers, but after he had left. They soon figure out that it was a tool they could use on numerous ways. Soon enough and after they had painted their houses, carriages and whatever was better looking with a paint; the brush ended up at the hands of a child.
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The kid then, started to draw. They were all shockingly amazed. They could barely hide their joy, as for this totally useless act of drawing a subject was giving them such a happiness.
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After a very short while, there was an ex barn turned in to a painting workshop. Yes, maybe you could also say, art workshop, even if the ex barn owner was not called Verrocchio.
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The brush was one and they needed more. But they could not replicate the structure of this exotic and mythical tool. They could just use it. And sharing was the natural thing to do with it also.
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The non Verrocchio's workshop was thriving. May people, little and old, wanted to use the brush and leave with a painting of their own.
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Until one day, someone took the authority to grab the brush and claim it his property.
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He and only he could paint. The others should just accept his paintings, rather I prefer to say, his perspective.
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The village was shaken, fields half abandoned, shoes with holes and the bricklayer bored to lay bricks any more. But no one wanted to forget about the brush and continue life in the pre-brush era.
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The brush man became strong with his words, got some rules of him accepted by the rest, I must forget that he demanded to be called leader or something similar, not.
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Until the last day, before the next visit of the merchant the village was in decline. They all were visiting the workshop, just to see the man with the brush to paint. They all were so attached to this act of painting, that they even found value just to look at it.
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The day of the merchant came. And he brought all kinds of brushes. Was he a smart champ not, the merchant? He understood that he forgot the brush and only then he notices that in the village are no brushes. So as a Stoic, gathered as many brushes he could the last year, and also materials and tools to make brushes. Brushes of all kinds and sizes and specialties.
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All the people started to create so different and pleasant to the eyes paintings that, I assure you there was not even a sign of hypocrisy to say that it was a week long celebration of art, after the merchant left and had left all these brushes.
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Many were painting, some where making new brushes. And some, at least not so many were collecting and hiding brushes, just to be sure.
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The problem came when the brush collectors started to get panicked about getting brushes stored, just to have more brushes. They did not even give a second to actually do something with one of them, like paint the door of their house, or make a nice little painting.
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The balance of how many brushes were worn out and how many where made, interrupted. How to persuade the brush collectors that unused brushes are exactly that, useless.
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The brush collectors also had the idea to start the authority scheme of the brush man. And they certainly mean it when they wanted to be called "Rulers". They just gave to all the others a "say". Like they could choose some of the brush collectors to be more "collective" than the others.
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Difficult situation aroused on the poor village. But like every year and once per year the merchant came again. He also understood and guessed more or less what happened the time he was absent. "Giving brushes to people that fear, is bad idea. I should fix it this time" he wrote to his little book that kept always with him. And that he did in all.
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Pompous and theatrical he stepped over the fountain of the only square of the village and said very seriously.
"WHERE ARE THOSE THAT STARTED TO COLLECT AND HIDE BRUSHES?"
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"COME OUT AND ANSWER ONE QUESTION ONLY!"
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"WHY?"
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"It was terrible the times without brushes, we wanted to guaranty ourselves that will never come again for us and our children!"
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"AND YOU FINALLY SUCCEED TO BRING THE TIMES OF NO-BRUSH, BUT THIS TIME HAVING A LOT OF THEM ALREADY, RIGHT?"
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They did not answer at all. Even their children were living in a stressful village because of them.
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"I wanted to paint, not collect brushes", said a little girl, "and you were saying to me that painting is useless and should only collect brushes", concluded, looking at her father.
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Then she run at her home and brought all the brushes, brand new and from every kind, to the square. The same did all the other children of the brush collectors.
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The merchant just said "you can buy anything from the goods I brought and will bring to you, but brushes only those that know how to live together will receive, Your children.".
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Some still are wandering if he forgot to say "goodbye" like every time he was leaving, or he did not wanted to say it.
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It is about a year that all these happened. The merchant will be at the village soon.