Go its own way
Into the field area, to our packaging plant some distance. Large area of our field, the workshop will be more, our workshop is the latest from the guard. The presence of the middle area has a very wide, very long cement road, every day someone cleaning, especially clean, people like to work along this road. But I do like to go the other way, may not be called "Road," because this "Road" is a grass, this is no way, but I take more, it has become a way, become my own a road.
Our factory is doing food, so every time into the plant, changing clothes, out the back door from the locker room, just to see me walk this path. So work, work this way I will go, can not tell why, that is not want to go piece of road, perhaps too hard that way, get out of their own traces, and perhaps do not like that way too noisy, fear that a disturbance of their own indifferent heart. So take a day so the meadow, walk more often, and go gradually pale grass, I know, that it was his life wither, but they grow along the road especially in the lush grass. Especially under the rain, the sun came out, the grass is straight and the waist, the growth toward the sun, as if every day they grow up, are tall.
I like the grass, in this world, they are just a small life. Perhaps no one noticed their existence, but they do not mind, do not care how others see them, to enjoy the sun and rain, show it to others in the beauty of life. I think this may be the way I like to take this the real reason, and I in this world is a nameless grass, no one knows I exist, and no one care about your life is not also encounter the wind rain. Like the grass, rain came, stubborn bulging, the sun came, and to enjoy life to quietly, quietly growing, one day will quietly leave.
To keep on going piece of "road" or a person, I think no one but me would go this path. Others like to walk on the path and take the people that much, but clean. Particularly rainy day, covered with grass the way a bit muddy, but I'm still the same, still take this path, a little afraid of mud, which is the true nature and return to nature is not a very happy thing? Sometimes people will look at me with strange, I think, they must think I'm sick, right? Good road does not go, to go partial piece of muddy paths. But I do not care, I only care about their own feelings. Way to go rely on their own, the day is over to see their own, do not care about how people say, how to look, as long as their happy, happy on the line. Stick to their own way, live a personality self. Think of the poet Dante's line: "go their own way, whatever others may say."
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