Freewrite || Behind the Smoke and the Old Machine

It was an ordinary morning, but there was something that always caught my attention when the old machine started. The rattling sound slowly turned into a steady rhythm, as if breathing with the person operating it. A thin smoke billowed, mixed with the scent of burning wood, creating a familiar atmosphere in this simple environment.

A man stood calmly, lifting a large sack with strength practiced by time. His movements were unhurried, but sure. Every grain poured into the machine was part of a routine he had performed countless times. There was no complaint, only focus and patience.

Behind the simplicity of this tool and place, there was a struggle often unseen. The old machine may have weathered many seasons, but it still worked faithfully. So did its owner. Despite the heat from the fire and the unavoidable rigors of work, he persevered, because this was where his livelihood lay.

The surroundings seemed simple, with trees and houses standing as they were. Yet it was in places like this that life lived honestly. Nothing was artificial, everything was real and as it was.

Sometimes we forget that behind the fruits of our labor every day, there are hands working unnoticed. They don't seek praise, just hope for enough to get through the next day.

And from there, we learn that hard work doesn't always look grand. Sometimes it manifests itself in the simplest of forms, behind the thin smoke and the sound of an old machine constantly revving.

Note: I am writing in Indonesian and using the help of Google translate to translate into English.

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@gunting