A chaos of voices, cranes humming, tugboats and trains whistling. A mess of sounds that we did not care to distinguish anymore. Crowded around the syndicate stand where labours were scheduled, a group of stevedores shouted with their documents in the air struggling to be the first picked for the next shift. The lucky ones ran to the ship as fast as their legs permitted. One who did not know the context would be led to think they were eager to work… In fact, arriving first on board meant to...
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