“Strangers are friends you have yet to meet.”

Anypony who had been in Canterlot at least once knew how fancy and elegant both the city and its citizens were. The ponies who visited it once, wished they could visit the whole world, and beyond.

Anypony who had been born in Canterlot was blessed with countless opportunities to explore the world, but most of the Canterlot citizens seemed to not care for the outside much. Canterlot was a rather closed and self indulged city; once one studied it slightly more, it was kind of obvious.

Canterlot, however, had its share of ponies that never quite belonged into the elegant clique whose daily activities mostly included tea parties, evening parties, fashion parties, fashion shows, fashion news, gossips and criticism, no matter how elite-relaxing that sounded, and probably was. One of those ponies was a unicorn Blank Rembrandt.

Blank Rembrandt was born, like most of the Canterlot citizens, into a prestigious family, with a well-known name of Quill, and a certain, flattering level of respect among the Canterlot families. His mother an economist, and his father a doctor, Rembrandt's parents were prestigious ponies, who, while they did enjoy the Canterlot's general interest in fashionable and elite, never were quite there, and preferred to indulge themselves into conversations of more philosophic or scientific nature. It all gave Rembrandt a wide array of experiences ever since he was a colt. Never being pushed into anything but learning, he read of everything, saw and knew everyone, practiced different kinds of magic, visited places and met ponies one could only dream of meeting, and grew up full of various bits of knowledge, yet with a huge lack of it – Rembrandt knew of everything but of himself.

Rembrandt's birth name never included “Blank”. Being born a Quill, an inclusion of the nickname such as “Blank” wasn't exactly flattering. Alas, Rembrandt never got his Cutie Mark.

As a colt, it was normal, his parents told him. It will come soon, before the teen years – definitely.

Then the teens followed. Rembrandt was a rare one, along with only three more ponies of his age in the whole city, who was still occasionally earning the mocking title of “Blank Flank” from more immature of his classmates. It happens, his family and his blank-flanked friends told him. By the time we finish with education, we'll already know our mission in life.

Rembrandt finished a prestigious university with a blank flank. His once blank flanked friends were the only ones he still could consider his friends, even to this day. Even to this day, years after, even though he had his own place to live, a job, friends, and a certain small but existing society in Canterlot he was still welcomed in – even after trying out everything and knowing everything, expanding his knowledge day by day, trying new things on hourly basis, he remained known as Blank Rembrandt. But, he got used to it – ponies got used to him. He even welcomed his nickname now, probably from hearing it too much. He lived a nice, if somewhat lonely, but fulfilled life.

It was the day Rembrandt overheard his friends talking about him though, when he finally decided to do something about that "flaw" of his.

As he was trying to get to the other side of the street to a fancy café he sometimes visited, he heard familiar voices of friends right in front of him. He was about to greet them, when he heard exactly what his friends spoke of him:

“I know, I know, but I really feel sorry for him... I mean, Rembrandt is a nice pony, he seems to be alright and all, but... I don’t' think he's truly happy at all. I don't think anyone like “him” would be. I mean, if I found out I was good for absolutely nothing, I would be pretty depressed.”

Shock and disbelief took place in his heart as he watched his friends leave. It was time to do something.

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Rembrandt observed as Canterlot slowly became smaller and smaller, big enough to fit into his hoof. The train whistled loudly as it finally turned and Canterlot got lost behind the mountain. He sighed, somewhat regretful, but allowed himself to smile confidently. Leaving Canterlot felt like an amazing burden being taken off his back and brought on many feelings; a certain level of happiness, anxiety, worry, fears and expectations. In short, he was more excited than the day he... was he actually ever this excited?

A week passed since he overheard his friends. He recalled the letter of resignation he sent to his boss a few days later, and the one he left to his parents barely an hour ago, wondering if he got everything down right.

Dear father, mother, sister,

I am leaving on a trip for a bit of self-discovery. I still haven't achieved my purpose in life, and time flies. You know well that, while job in the library wasn't bad, and was in fact quite enjoyable, it was never what I truly wanted. I do not wish to be nothing more than an useless asset to the community anymore.

Don't fret – I already found work and place to stay. I'll contact you regularly. I just want you to know I hold no grudge against or blame any of you or my friends, but myself for the way I am. That has to change.

Please, say bye to my friends and the rest of the family. I will not be back for a while. In fact I might not be back at all – at least not for good; I will visit as soon a I make progress with any of the self discoveries I might make. Expect my new address soon.

With love, your son B. Rembrandt Quill.

Rembrandt wasn't going too far though. Ironically, although he visited many placed and traveled around a lot during his life, he never visited Ponyville. In fact, he might have had, once, but when he was very young. He barely remembered anything. He figured he might as well settle there for now. It appeared to be a nice and peaceful place with many friendly faces.

He finally leaned back into his seat, relaxing. Not many ponies were on the train, so it was quite a peaceful afternoon, interrupted with nothing but the sound of train tracks and an occasional whistle. Rembrandt pondered over the slightly big number of job offers he got when he in advance gave an application available to public of Ponyville. Apparently they were looking for several workers on Sweet Apple Acres, but it seemed they could always use the extra help there; it probably depended on weather conditions and such. It sounded nice like an experience, but Rembrandt doubted he would enjoy it every day.

The owner of the store called Quills and Sofas sent him a rather thorough reply saying he needed an assistant, almost as if it was about some tough or complicated job. Rembrandt had plenty of experience working in a store when he was a young colt though, mostly helping out the friendly neighbors, or trying to earn a small allowance, but he wasn't eager on doing it again.

Several more offers included simplistic jobs such as taking care of gardens, serving guests of a cafe, and selling things door to door. A few more important job offers included an assistant to the mayor and observation and evaluation of town events for a report of some student that lived in the town.

It was when he reached for the final offer when he finally found something of interest. The local newspapers searched for someone to write a weekly column on various things from an ordinary life – he was a pretty good choice because of the interesting CV and rich experience – basically, they searched for someone to write anecdotes, observations or events, and pass it on to the public in form of a short story with a moral or a punchline. Rembrandt never tried a single job that had too much to do with wider public. Who knows, maybe he will find his place in journalism?

After a few hours the train's pace finally slowed; soon a gentle jerk of it was the signal for Rembrandt. It was the time to meet Ponyville.

Rembrandt couldn't contain his surprise though, when he got off the train. This city – no, town... almost a village, was so tiny, yet so lively. Ponies were everywhere, going places, carrying things, running errands or chatting away. In the moment, he got an unexplained fear of being noticed. Probably because he never was in such a small town. And he knew what they say about small communities – the rumors spread fast, and secrets are never secrets.

With a heavy gulp, he summoned his bags to gently follow him, and with a slight feeling of insecurity, entered the town of Ponyville. The place that was going to change his life.