REAPING AND SOWING

here are those who twist the lands of into an arcadian paradise, producing endless pallets of foodstuffs every season like a terrifying Monsanto baron. I do not belong to that camp. At best, I am a filthy casual. My plough inherited from the bronze age, my cultivation skills cannot nurture anything more fragile than the hardiest of cereals, and I frequently sell my labor to the richer neighboring homesteads. And has finally clicked in my brain. There is so much joy in scraping by.