Sunday, January 8, 2012
Men whos faces were contorted over time with their tortured lives into something you cannot even look at. Something truly ugly. They walk, lanterns swinging, along the railroad tracks to what ramshackle dwellings they after all afford. The inner world of their dwelling places look onto them, their regard for what they call a family, the families' regard for the men. Nobody is grateful. Not a moment of tenderness in their day.