Tables. Chairs. The cave-like place is poorly lit and full of smoke. Some men, around fifteen. They are making a racket - drinking, eating, arguing... The place looks like a refuge for the insane, the vagabond, the violent, the drunkards and gangsters. They look filthy, their faces unkempt and full of wrinkles, unshaven, with dirty nails, greasy hair and broken teeth. They are dressed in rags. And then suddenly... Ecce mulier.
—Anonymous