L and the Counsel Continued: The Laborer

L: While the comedian is left to his laughter, you with the tanned skin and parched hair, you only shake your head. Your eyes reflect a calloused despair. Your stature is bent as if a heavy stone settles on your back. Skin peels at your chapped lips. And you gaze at nothing. Tell me, what measure does life have to you?

Laborer: Life is a measure of sweat and hunger. For men like me, there is no relief from either. My eyes were softer and my skin was smoother when I was a child. But age has brought me the burden of my stomach, and so I labor. Before, I used to curse the heat of the Sun, and the bitterness of sweat lashed at my tongue. Now my skin is dark, familiar with the Sun's hot rays, and the bitterness of sweat has given way to the dull taste of dirt. Only when there is a repose and a cool breeze sets in can I close my eyes and remember the joys of my youth. Those moments are fleeting, however, and easily forgotten, for the bulk work of my muscles makes my mind empty, and this is why I hold the gaze of an ox tilling the soil, heaving beneath a heavy sky, looking at nothing. When the Sun goes down, I go home to rest. My slumber is blank; I have no dreams. The morning starts, and so does my toil. Many think my heart to be made of stone because I do not laugh or smile nor do I frown or weep. There is no desire in the man who possesses the plight of the laborer, the soul of a beast. I only look forward to the final sigh when death will bring upon me a release.


Note: Although I worked longer and harder on the segment of the Comedian, I like this one the best out of the set so far. It's short and simple, but the voice carries the whole sweat-and-toil world of the laborer real well.