On the bank of the river stood a small, raw bazaar in Ghior. There, I noticed workers carrying heavy bundles of raw jute. Beneath the dense, golden fibres, their bodies were almost completely hidden—except for their piercing eyes. The price of jute may rise and fall, but the fate of these hardworking people seems forever woven into the golden fibre that both sustains and conceals them.
The human of golden fiber.
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