A brick buyer from a construction firm, a white man in a large truck, comes to look at the finished piles. He explains, "Handmade bricks, especially historical ones like this, are in demand. They often sell for over a dollar per brick." He sells to companies specializing in reclaimed materials that advertise to those wanting "historical charm." Most of the buyers are fancy restaurants in fancy neighborhoods, places that seem so far away from Selma.

Sem joins the group [...] She spent the day working and wasn't complaining: "I am a single mother with five kids. I will do any work, and this is the only work in town."

Another worker joins her, his hands bleeding beneath a cloth wrap. He also isn't complaining, although when I ask him directly what he thinks, he smiles tight. "This is slave work, that's what it is, but the only work around. Kind of funny when you think about it, because them bricks were probably made by slaves. That is Selma for you, though: still a city of slaves."