Field of Roots

The whirlwind: bangs the latchless doors against the wall of the room whirls the scraps of paper in the air has scattered the surface dust throws it into the eyes of passers-by. The wheat field stands on its earth: wheat field! with the whirlwind it lies down on the soil with the whirlwind it sings with the whirlwind it dances madly. It has taken root in the depths of the earth: the one that dances in storms laughs in the whirlwind....