When I was 13 I got a job at a vineyard in my hometown. My job was to go around and pick the small elm trees that were starting to grow under the vines. In theory this would be simple, like pulling weeds. In reality it was a twisted Alighierian version of hell on Earth. Elm trees are like the icebergs of the land; their root systems are extensive and deep. Landbergs. I was an illegal child laborer, so I was only getting paid $20/day. What they needed was a tractor, not a schoolboy. I quit that job after one day.
My naiveté when it comes to perceived