Once, a man was flying over the desert. His plane broke. He sat alone in the sand. In the morning, a small voice woke him up. It asked him, very softly, to draw a sheep.

This is the book that came out of that meeting. Saint-Exupéry wrote it during the war, far from home. He drew every picture himself, in watercolor, between pages. He said it was a book for grown-ups who had forgotten that they were once children. Two years after it was published, he flew out over the sea and did not come back.

Here are thirteen small rooms for it. Each room has one picture, one French sentence, and one little story to keep you company while you look. Please come in quietly. The prince is still here somewhere.