In Bangladesh's cities and along its forgotten margins, a parallel world runs on labor that is never counted and suffering that is rarely named. Extreme socioeconomic precarity here is not an exception to the system — it is the system, quietly sustained by those it excludes most.
Generation after generation, the same people inherit the same margins — the landfill, the railway edge, the shipyard dark — with no ladder out and no record of having been there.
Their resilience is real, but it is also a burden: the burden of surviving, repeatedly, what should never have been survived at all.
What these lives carry is not just hardship — it is the full, unacknowledged weight of a society that has never stopped to look.