Workers planting flowers in the roadside flower beds. Everything that grows here, pretty much, needs to be irrigated. These flowers are planted in between rows of black hoses – but even then, the flowers don’t last long. For some reason, begonias are often what get planted, which is an odd choice, I think, because if memories of my mom’s suburban gardens are any indication, begonias grow best in partial shade.

Ain’t none of that here.

I know more about the flowers being planted than I do about the men doing the planting. Depending on who you ask, the money these men make here far exceeds the money they could make in Sri Lanka, Islamabad, Goa; or they are being wildly exploited and are little more than flower-planting prisoners.

I expect the truth resides somewhere in between.