This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project

I am a construction worker. I make the buildings and the pavements, working very long hours which are not legal. I used to earn only a few dollars a day, now I earn 18 dollars. I save it and send to my son who I love more than anything. People here do not understand my existence, I am just part of the machinery. It hurts when others cannot look me in the eye. I am a moral dilemma they cannot address. I feel like I am not myself anymore, all my personality and life has drained away, all I do is work, and that is all others see too.