In the Alpine mountains of Switzerland, a young carpenter has just learned that his wife is with child.
Looking for advice, he consults his own father, to better prepare for fatherhood. The old man tells him, ''You should build something to await the arrival of the child. Something which will have your purest thoughts, your kindest emotions encapsulated within, to gift to the child when it is born. ''
On the way atop the mountains, the young man gets an idea forming within his head, whilst walking past a field with horses about. He will build a small wooden race horse on wheels, for the child to ride around in.
He spends hours, tirelessly carving, polishing, measuring, until nine months later, the child is born. The man's life is suddenly filled with intense joy, and he forgets about his gift for a little while. That is, until his son begins to take his first steps, and his balance becomes more assured. The carpenter decides to take the wooden horse out of his workshop, and gift it to his son. The son, is instantly magnetized by the toy, and instinctively learns how to ride it forth, and about the house.
With time, the child grows up strong, smarter every day. With age, he began neglecting the wooden horse, and soon, his mother had tucked it away, as a keepsake into the attic of the house.
A few decades pass, and the child has become a man. He followed up in his father's footsteps, in some ways, and in others he varied. He went on to study the Arts in Zurich, but still chose to work with wood, like his father did.
His sculptures became famous, as he managed to catalyze the aesthetic, literary and artistic movements of the time. His first exposition came, and he stood there, proud, in this artistic intelligentsia coffee house, surrounded by cigar smoke, thinking of his dad, who had since passed.
Suddenly, a man sporting a cigarette perched atop fine lips, approached him, and asked inquisitively in Swiss German, but with an undeniably thick French accent.
''Are you an artist?''
''Non, but my Dada ist.''
My grains!
