That morning the sky hung gray clouds over the calm rice fields. Among the puddles and soft mud, a man in a hat and red T-shirt stood firmly behind the plowing machine. Both hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, directing the rotating iron that stirred the soil, breaking up hard lumps into fine mud ready for planting.
Every step was heavy, his feet sank into the mud up to his calves. But he didn't stop. The sound of the roaring engine combined with the chirping of birds and the rustling of the wind, became a familiar daily rhythm in his ears. This activity is not just work, but a habit that has become part of his life in moving the rice fields, preparing hope for the next planting season.
Behind his back, which was wet with mud and sweat, was hidden a strength that was rarely seen. There is emotion in every turn of the iron wheel, in every patch of rice field that is leveled. Because from the land that is patiently cultivated, life grows, rice turns yellow, families smile, and simple days become full of meaning.
That's how the daily scene goes simple, but full of power. In the midst of mud and puddles of water, he planted not only rice seeds, but also determination.