Image Description: A full body portrait of a person named Amat Yaqschi. They are a brown and thin person who stands firmly holding a scythe in one hand, the other tucked into one of their pockets, and they look neutrally at the viewer. They have a long face with mottled cheeks, a long acquiline nose, drooped brown eyes, and a bushy unibrow. Their mouth is slightly open, revealing their tooth gap, with a chunk of wood loosely perched on their lower lip. They have short and tightly curled black hair. Large rectangular jade earrings hang from their lobes. Over a blue and white shirt they wear a fur-lined Buratl coat; the fur is brown, and the fabric is white with flowers in green and red embroidered on the top. They have external pockets tied around their waist, made of brown fabric with red flowers on it and azure trim. Looped from their belt as well is a pomander on wood and jade beads. Their brown pants are very baggy and stop at their mid-calf, tucked into black foot wrapping under toothed sandals.
Out of the red earth they stand on, rich ferns and flowers grow eagerly around them. Behind them, up from the mist, loom thin spire-like mountain peaks going back into a yellow sky. End ID.
It happens without fail at every turn of the seasons. I get an unbearable restlessness, an itch, the unbearable urge to move. So I go. I cut the grasses that line the paths in and out of the village and up the mountain slopes. I like to think I assist with the last rites of the dry gods, but the urge is entirely born of myself. As I like to say, I am but one of the many opportunistic worms crawling upon Sutomeq's back.
I run into a lot of travellers -- some my neighbors, some regulars on the paths, some I meet once and never again. They are almost always casual, courteous, and friendly to me, and it is nice. But my greatest joy is listening to the symphony of the regulars -- the chitter of insects, the cry of the birds.
The portrait of a mixed Juger-falés & Agatin grass cutter from the Makke'uno mountains.