I sit and read, in a relentless hail, I was just filling, far from the ears of corn grown in the thin rice straw waddle struggling, but unable to break free of its fertility, but firmly lock live its earth.
I have seen that under the merciless hailstorm, my newly grouted and far from grown ears are struggling on the thin straw, but they are unable to break away from the land where they were raised, but they are firmly locked.