in the valley the rice fields are being irrigated, standing (still) water, a silver reflection, blue sky, the protrusion of shoots, this green coming over you, the aqueducts are full, even if the streambeds are dry. perhaps rice is innocent in all this, the seeds sprouting when planted, the water in the fields, never mind the toxic runoff or the dropping water tables, the smoke that fills the air every fall, it is hard to hold a grass responsible for much of anything. so where does complicity lie, the farmers, the traders, the consumers, the bowl of rice at the Japanese restaurant, to stop eating rice might change the landscape but would it change our relationship to the land, where are the people in this history?