
A long, arched corridor stretches into the distance, its beams hung with heavy coils of rope in cream and rust-red. In the foreground, men in flat caps turn tall spinning wheels, feeding strands of flax into twisted cord, while two boys crank a geared machine that pulls the fibers taut along the floor. Women in long dresses carry bundles of raw flax past baskets already stacked with finished rope, and patterned rugs and woven wall hangings brighten the wooden walls. Sunlight falls through small windows spaced along the corridor, and a bird perches on the roof beam near the entrance. Further figures work at their own wheels and benches far down the hall, growing smaller toward the vanishing point. Every station along the ropewalk repeats the same task, one strand at a time, until it disappears into the distance.
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