When Ian started in the trade as a young fella, it was all old Italians, yelling for more mud and spreading out the mortadella and provolone at smoko. He remembered tasting cappuccino from Vito's chipped-up Thermos. No more Imperial Roast after that. Now, he was one of the old bricklayers, taking his Esky and trowel to small jobs here and there. The young blokes weren't interested nowadays. They stared at their phones and walked past.
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