ThePortERs #37

ThE PortERs Tired feet, dry skin, hard, accustomed to the adversities of the roads; their aggression, which erodes a plant that resists almost outdoors. The legs cannot die, firmer, and more flexible than bamboo, and resistant. Shoulders and a back that no longer fall on the shapes of those objects that, sometimes sharp, sometimes crushing, but never light, rest their gravity on bones and muscles trained by habit. A neck and a head on which the rope that binds them to those tools that will never be theirs is tightened. They are just passing through their lives, and once the work is done, once the sweat and effort to transport them from one property to another is invested, they will cease to...View all