I was considering my own existence, and mortality, and I thought of the individual stalks of wheat as if they were people. Thinking of all the times this field has been harvested and planted, planted and harvested, laid fallow, and planted again. I insist! One human being, or one grain of wheat, is no more valuable than another. Each one is precious in their own right. No one is irreplaceable, and no one adds up to much all alone. Indeed, I feel humbled when I gaze at this photograph. Quite humbled, indeed.