More people die.
This place is literally being built on the blood, bones and flesh of expatriate labour.
The buildings are strengthened by the sweat and blood of those who lose their life so cheaply.
And their souls will haunt the place that promised prosperity and delivered death.
So cheap are their lives, no one is surprised by its loss. No one learns a lesson.
These deaths make more precious the lives of those around you. The ones to whom you grudge your time and attention. The ones to whom you owe your joys — small and big.