Stuck on another farm. Tedious, labourous tasks with no purpose for me to understand. Roaming around the hills to kill single pieces of ragwort, a weed plant, picking up dead weeds from a crop too large. At this stage of my travels, I find it hard to motivate myself towards such jobs. The eagerness, the willingness, is gone and all that's left is cynicism, criticism and close-mindedness.
The work, which gives me a different perspective towards life back home, needs a perspective of its own. Doesn't that seem redundant?