The Golden Harbor
The brass calipers lay upon the slate workbench, their jaws open like the mouth of a silent, iron beast, waiting to measure the width of a thing that did not yet exist, a void in the shape of a man, a hollow space where the heat of the furnace had been and the sweat of the laborer, the twin brothers standing in the shadow of the smokestacks that pierced the grey belly of the industrial sky...
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