Which social class is represented in this diary entry? Again it’s a morning to me.
A morning alike every day.
Let me wake up and go to the streets.
I have to clean them before the sun shows its face to the world.

My afternoon is spent inside the drain.
I clean them for the people to hurl supplemental waste into it.
Even after impelling, they don’t bother.
But it is I who clean them with my own hands.
Is there any difference between hands?
Are only my hands destined to do that?
Why is the drain so impure to them? It seems so chaste to me.

Even when I go to clean their toilet rooms, they stay far away from me.
It seems like they will die the next moment if the touch me by mistake.
They pay the money from a distance. Why so? What’s the difference between human flesh?