In the patio of the houses you cruise by, some of them take the sheep out to the mountain, some who are setting up the base to beat the wheat, and others are wearing the ropes of the weaving loom. When you go to the wellspring, you'll line up on the ground where the cows are drinking water from the vessel. On the stones beside the wellspring there are laborers assembled by age.
The youngsters accompanied their steeds to convey water and the ponies were steep and solid. Young ladies who see the youthful, murmuring in their mouths to ensure they snicker when they close their mouths.
New ladies and new moms are on the children's appendages and have an increasingly extreme discussion. Old aunties converse with the mumble when his eyes every so often plunge. Youngsters are the most versatile of the wellspring.
The individuals who attempt to be taken to the pontoon, the individuals who escape to the ears of bulls, who plan the assaults on the youngsters behind the other slope and, obviously, the individuals who share the crown jewels from the greenery enclosures make a curcuna in the wellspring.
Ladies who are holding up at home in their psyches approach the wellspring wildly and send a portion of the kids they can't occupy with the danger of shoes and stones.
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