“I stared out the window and watched the land change like it had a mental illness. Dead and barren became spinach, chard and cabbage glittering with the pulsing spray from long-wheeled irrigators, and then a dead stockyard with knocked down fence posts and a collapsed ramp and then a dumping ground for junk cars and raw garbage with turkey buzzards circling overhead and then sudden low orchards, peaches it looked like, with migrants reaching into scraggly trees with dirty pick-sacks slung over their shoulders. And then it was barren again, looking quite scorched, and then we arrived.”
Book:Cruddy
