這裡不見海，工廠的作息定義了風的流向，白晝是卡車的轟鳴與塵埃的起落，生活在此被壓成薄薄一片——在食堂電視的喧響與鐵架床的吱呀之間，在月底的工資條與遠處塔吊旋轉的光點之間。

Here, there is no sea in sight. The factory's rhythm defines the flow of the wind: daylight belongs to the roar of trucks and the rise and fall of dust. Life here is pressed into a thin sheet—between the blare of the canteen television and the creak of iron bunk beds, between the numbers on a end-of-month pay slip and the rotating gleam of a distant crane.