Narrative Photography

The road was straight, narrow, and never saw the darkness of pavement. A truck lurched its way down the wash boarded  surface creeping slowly along. The truck was red, bright red, and a black stripe ran down both sides. A man, hands gripping loosely the steering wheel, sat with a stern look upon his face. The overlooking fields watched as the truck came to a rolling stop to on side of the road. Brakes squeaked, gravel sprayed outwards, and a cloud of dust floated slowly across the vehicle attaching itself in a thin layer across the bright red surface.
Sunlight spilling in through the drivers window, silhouetted the mans body. His elbows found the grooved wheel as he lay his head between to weathered thumbs. He was a man, broken by the pressures of existence. As he sat the wave of emotions he planned to escape on the drive caught up. He wept, exhausted, out of fight, he wept. "how could they ruin his farm,  his existence?" he thought. The firm, Exo-Food Group,  held the patent for a seed his family developed over a century. Sued, stolen, lost, his operation, the wheat, the home; it was all gone. His existence copy-written out of existence...