A bunch of young people head off to farm. We can’t tell seedlings from weeds, get chased around by loofah vines, and walk ourselves sore getting to the market. Somehow, eggs from our own chickens taste the best. Life is a chaotic mess: some people stay, some leave, and nobody knows if any of it is right. I’m just writing down the days as they come, for myself to read. And if you happen to find them interesting too, then even through the pages of a book, we’ll have become friends out there in the fields.
