Men in Dai CapsMen in Dai caps walkinto a chill grey dawn. The measured clump of hobnailed boots echo hollow through tier-terraced streets. Throated woollen mufflers cling below determined jaws. Jagged blue lines etch foreheads facing the hungry earth that eats, swallows, digests and vomits them out in a gush of blackness, matched by the filthy river tumbling through tips of slag and slurry, tumulus remnants of shackled energies, and monuments to their monied masters. |
