a little egg of thought.

 

Nearly all the women wore aprons, and the strings drawn tight round their 
waists made their big stomachs bulge still more. I’d never yet noticed what 
big paunches old women usually have. Most of the men, however, were as 
thin as rakes, and they all carried sticks. What struck me most about their 
faces was that one couldn’t see their eyes, only a dull glow in a sort of nest 
of wrinkles.

https://archive.org/stream/the-stranger_202404/9780679720201_djvu.txt

old men brothers

one follows the other

with every passing

something small 

breaks apart