The Cart of Little Questions

In the small square stood an old Sicilian cart painted with knights, flowers, and yellow wheels.

No horse pulled it anymore. It stayed beneath the arch, and children used to pass without looking. Only Mimmo stopped.

He liked the little painted doors along the side.

One evening one door opened by itself.

Inside there was a small glowing question.

Why do shadows become long?

Mimmo read it aloud, and the square changed. The shadow of the fountain stretched like a blue ribbon, the chairs became thin giants, and even Mimmo’s own shadow looked like a boy from another story.

Another drawer opened.

Where does the smell of bread go after the bakery closes?

Mimmo followed the question with his nose. It went under a door, around a cat, up to a balcony where an old woman was smiling.

Drawer after drawer, the cart did not give answers immediately. It gave little roads.

Why do bells sound different at night?

What colour is silence?

How does a snail know where home is?

Mimmo wanted to open all the drawers, but the cart creaked.

“One question at a time.”

“Why?”

A tiny drawer opened.

Because every good question needs a place to sit.

Mimmo sat on the step and chose only one: What colour is silence?

The square became quiet. The sky was dark blue, the walls were pale, the jasmine was white, and the silence seemed to have all those colours at once.

The next day Mimmo brought a notebook. He did not fill it with answers. He filled it with questions that helped him look better.

And the old cart, under the arch, waited patiently. It knew that children grow not only by learning answers, but by protecting small bright questions.