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The night does not get cooler here. The heat persists. Their sweat runs. You can hear the chants of these work gangs as you walk past the hundreds of building sites that litter the city. They’re backs glistening, they look like dark machines, programmed for limited movement. They’re doing the strangest of tasks, breaking down bricks, or sifting piles of sand. They don’t sleep. I’ve never heard them talk.
Posted 2 years ago
