Piotr spent most of the afternoon mending fences. Horses rub against fences and kick them; wind and rain and time wear them down. It's a neverending chore on any farm with livestock to make sure everything is in good repair, and fix any weak spots before they turn into problems big enough for the animals to get out
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(He is, and he knows it.
Out here, with the wide sunset and the long horizon, what he looks and is is content.)
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"Farmboy's home."
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"A good farm."
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