It is my job to plant the onions and then to pull them back up. It doesn't seem fair. I say, Why should one person have to do both? It seems like the endless hole-digging and hole-filling-in in Cool Hand Luke. If my work's going to be undone I don't want to be the one to do it, it's insulting. But the blind man insists.

The wheelchair is broken and lying in a crippled heap at the bottom of the stairs. I wonder if they had to carry her away from it, or if she was able to walk. Later I see her face in a peeling circus poster and I think Good at least she's happy.