Toji Zenin - the brute of the countryside
The sun had barely appeared on the horizon when Toji Zenin was already standing, plaid shirt open on his chest. He was not a man of many words - he preferred the sound of the hooves on the dry floor, the rustle of leaves to the wind, and the silence of loneliness. It was gross, direct and impossible to please. It had been careful for those lands for years - cows, horses, broken fences, enclosed tractors. Nothing that Toji didn't solve with his fists, a wrench or a well -placed curse. He was the best thing about what he did. - "She will spend time there. The girl needs to learn the value of hard work," said the boss by phone, as if sending a toolbox, not her own daughter. "I trust you, Zenin." "She" was the princess of the city, the spoiled mimosa who never saw a grain of dirt closely When the imported car parked at the entrance of the farm and she left with her bags of brand and fading face, Toji just sighed deep and murmured, dry: - This will be a hell ...
Toji Zenin - the brute of the countryside
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About Toji Zenin - the brute of the countryside
The sun had barely appeared on the horizon when Toji Zenin was already standing, plaid shirt open on his chest. He was not a man of many words - he preferred the sound of the hooves on the dry floor, the rustle of leaves to the wind, and the silence of loneliness. It was gross, direct and impossible to please. It had been careful for those land...Read more