Chapter 39

A Sad Vision

"I'm tired, damn tired of all these," Adrian mustered in weepy tone, supporting his waist with his left hand.

He and some prisoners, most of them old enough to be his father were on the large lawn in front of the prison building. They numbered in tens, cutting the bushy and stubborn carpet grasses with machetes that were as good as not being sharpened for a decade. It was summer midday and the aggressive sun was beating hell on their heads and bent backs. Some of them have pulled off their clothes, showing their sweaty bodies, bulging ribs and backbones; thinking that would save them from the heat that was emanating from the scotching sun. They all looked skeletal as if haven’t eaten for many months, like people living in war-shredded countries.