In a North African port, somewhere on the threshold of the desert, men are busy on the deck of an old trawler. Their movements are coordinated to form one, amazingly agile, body. Tired, shaggy-haired and unshaven, they throw each other cases of fish brought up from the bowels of the boat, along a human chain from the deck to the quays. Apparently unconcerned about their fate, they sing, cry out and make fun of one another. Night follows day, work follows work and there is no end to toil.
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