Many years ago in the distant little kingdom has happened this story. Narrow streets of Copenhagen still remember how their streets trod ridiculous gait great storyteller. Lanky figure of this man occurred here there, and even rumored that Anderson saw in different places simultaneously. As if he had during his life preparing to become the spirit of this city. And his tales were just a rehearsal. Though he did not try on clothes storyteller, but the mantle Tales of itself. And with each new story, this robe was sitting on it all prosper, fueled by the skilful hand of the Great Portnoy under artsy build the future owner.
It is not known exactly when Andersen has ceased to be Storyteller and has become the fairy tale. Some believe that this happened immediately after the author has not mastered grammar, died completely on the fairy tale, having fallen from her bed and strongly rasshibshis. Maybe it was true. Or maybe not so. Known for certain is that after his conversion Andersen has never left since his beloved kingdom. All subjects were aware of this, and know to this day. Because fairy tales from that time never stops.
To neither happened German troops marched into Denmark calm and even once in everyday. The people of this country, its spire dating back to the sky, could not and could not resist. Overnight, the commandant's office are located next to the flower shops. The smell of tulips was so real that, through piercing ambitions of the Third Reich seemed to dissolve in the air and gave the wind that carries them light haze outside the kingdom.