It appears that our neighbours are pagans. On my way to the plot I spotted what looked like a tree of strange blossoms. It turned out to be a traveling item of festival idolatry. As I got closer to our place I got stuck behind crowds of revellers in fancy pajamas pushing their juggernauts along the roads to the shrine, banging their drums and singing. It looks to be a lively neighbourhood in the festival season.
Accompanied by the distant sounds of my future neighbours enjoying their harvest festival, I tilled my land preparing it for a planting of beans, peas and onions. This was not an easy task as the land seems to be full of ancient concrete blocks that bend the prongs of my fork.
My trusty gloves bear mute witness to the intensity of my labours.