Satire · AIInvented scene and invented people, made with AI. The situation is real; the photograph is not.
Harvest is done. The straw is cut. It's still green — cut this morning, wet through.
You could leave it three days in the sun. It would dry, catch in a minute, burn clean in an hour, and be gone.
Nobody does that. It gets piled up wet and lit the same afternoon. Green straw doesn't burn. It smoulders. For days. And every pile in every field does the same thing at the same time, so the whole valley disappears into grey.
The mother on the scooter has masks on both kids. The jogger has a mask. The clinic is full of coughs. The man with the fork has no mask, no hurry, and no idea what everyone is complaining about.
It's not the fire. It's the choice to make smoke instead.
