The beginnings of a new rice crop. Each individual sproutlet pushed one after the other by hand into verdant, striped patches of land.
Patchwork fields. I think the lush green carpet is a mass of sproutlets waiting to be industriously hand-placed in an empty field. My back is beginning to ache just thinking of the labor involved. I think that in the future I will appreciate every handful of rice that enters my mouth just a little bit more than I have before.
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