Without knowing why you were left? Without knowing if anyone is still thinking of you?”.

One afternoon on a construction site on the outskirts of Paris, as the sunlight began to fade, the sounds of shovels mixing concrete and the clash of bricks still echoed in the air.

Miguel — a worker in his thirties — quickly wiped the sweat from his brow and sat down near a pile of bricks.

His life was simple, almost austere: …

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