The farmer, my father! The rice field, my mother!
The farmer, my father!
The rice field, my mother!
By Seha76!
Sweat that flows throughout his body not after exercise or the pleasure of bone soup at the dining table, but sweat that stings the scent of suffering.
Every hoe that swung into the air imagined the faces of children and wives who lacked food in a weathered house.
The results of their sweat, really are not commensurate with the selling price and purchase price in the market that does not pay attention to human values.
Every hoe that swings into the air
sniffing his breath like the breath of a buffalo pulling a load on a climbing and perforated road.
When the sun is almost drowning in the western horizon, walking home slowly to the arms of his wife and beloved children is like a chicken in the rain.
When night fell, his breath snored loudly into the sky.
2019
Image source :
https://pin.it/rwhhdkfylme7nh
The rice field, my mother!
By Seha76!
Sweat that flows throughout his body not after exercise or the pleasure of bone soup at the dining table, but sweat that stings the scent of suffering.
Every hoe that swung into the air imagined the faces of children and wives who lacked food in a weathered house.
The results of their sweat, really are not commensurate with the selling price and purchase price in the market that does not pay attention to human values.
Every hoe that swings into the air
sniffing his breath like the breath of a buffalo pulling a load on a climbing and perforated road.
When the sun is almost drowning in the western horizon, walking home slowly to the arms of his wife and beloved children is like a chicken in the rain.
When night fell, his breath snored loudly into the sky.
2019
https://pin.it/rwhhdkfylme7nh