Empty string

The sky when it is clear pours its dew, moisture accompanied by the bites of the freezing cold - especially on winter nights - and bodies exhausted - hungry and tired - eat their hollow intestines, one another, and bodies that are cohesive, or endowed with some resistance and strength of endurance sway to the right and to the left due to sea dizziness and the secretions of its nocturnal scents that are unbearable. In the midst of that human crowd, women whose labor conditions did not improve their timing when labor strikes them and their closed doors are pushed open, bringing new birth surprises with the first gasp they face life with and the first breath with which they open their unknown journey in the coming days and the hidden fates. The red hue of labor secretions mixes with the accumulation of some seawater leaking from the wooden cracks into the ship's belly, so that these waters, stained with blood, become the only means to wash and clean the remnants of labor and its fluids and what clings to the bodies of the new births that fate cast into the furnace of suffering and misery.