Prelude

Every great work with or without any literary merit is preceded by some sort of an introduction. Our narratives, or should I call epistles, to follow shall therefore not be deprived of the right to be introduced. However, I greatly regret the fact that no better pen (actually keyboard) than mine ever commenced to narrate this subject of epic proportions and seminal importance.
This shall be a tale about an exclusively male populated farm at the heart of our agrarian nation called HST. The farm is not your average one, growing rice or wheat. For starters, the products of HST are far more expensively bought and usually exported to another nation which has diamonds and dreams named after it.
HST nourishes a species who have brains operating at a frequency completely at discordance with rest of the world around. And that is exactly why the future of the world rests on their shoulders, or so the inhabitants of the farms think.
I shall reveal no farther about HST bred males. That is for you, dear reader, to find out. We are hereby trying to give you an unbiased account of HST as perceived from outside.
However, before I end this note I have the obligation of introducing ourselves, the narrators, to you. We are invoking the blessings of Homer (the name attributed to perhaps more than 1 writer, he alone can bless us) and a far greater writer than him who inspired us to think of making money out of HST stories.
We are three females- idle and (ill-)literate. It is a matter of great misfortune that we keep bumping into HST breeds. We’ll share all the knowledge that we have gathered about them in our open letters to follow.

Yours sincerely,
Tan.