In this one we see the farmer you saw on TV talking
through dry, parched, cracked lips about the unfairness of
it all, of how the upstream counties and states *always* have
first dibs on the river's water whenever the river has water.
Behind him and the interviewer is a plate-glass window beyond
which we see a city street corner, traffic whizzing past, pedestrians
pausing to preen and reach for their cell phones when they see their
images on the monitors above the window on national TV, and
he looks oddly out of place, sitting there in his boots and denims,
jabbing one finger at his ear whenever the earpiece feels like it's
about to slip loose. He shares his fears that the government's
about to reduce the price supports that keep him "afloat."
He grins and makes little airborne quotation marks with two fingers
of each hand. Outside, on the sidewalk, pedestrians lean this way
and that, trying to let themselves be seen beyond his denim jacket's
shoulders. When his moment is over, he thanks his interviewer
and expresses the hope that we'll all understand his problems
and needs, and that we'll all do our best to save the family farm.
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