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Oh no I have cut myself a lot, I am in so much pain, but my family is worth the sacrifice
I've worked so much that my fingers have lost their bending capability prior to this unsafe and impractical labor
The food is definitely worth it for the customers but not me, I think I might die of tuberculosis
The hands of these men would be criss- crossed with cuts, until you could no longer pretend to count them or to trace them.
They would have no nails, – they had worn them off pulling hides; their knuckles were swollen so that their fingers spread out like a fan.
There were men who worked in the cooking rooms, in the midst of steam and sickening odors, by artificial light; in these rooms the germs of tuberculosis might live for two years
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