I’m walking along a narrow road, with bushes by each side. It’s a lonely road and I am on my way to the village stream. It’s almost dawn.

I am walking alone, peaceful, carefree, with the clay pot balanced perfectly on my head as I fling my right hand to and fro like a pendulum.

Suddenly, my hand got caught by a weed growing beside the road. A bit of my flesh is slightly torn. It stings a little and I see few drops of blood. I hiss, wipe my hand on my wrapper and continue on my way.

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