Laugh. Then pray.
The five life-sized bronze men line up, in hats and overcoats, their shoulders slumped. Outside a closed door, they wait for bread or, perhaps, a job.
Eva Durak, 31 years old, slipped into the queue of statues and assumed a glum pose appropriate to the Great Depression, while a friend snapped a picture. It wasn’t hard for her to fake the misery. Business at the restaurant where Ms. Durak tends bar is off about 75%, she figures.
“We’re almost there,” she told her friend, glancing at the bread line. “People are very afraid. I am, too.”