I

El Baile de los Pobres

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In the world where they lived, where the rules of the game were made by them, the most powerful and rich, injustices and wars were daily bread, in a selfish struggle to show which country was stronger, more capable and more successful. To desperately demonstrate the skills that made him unique, that made him a leader and power over the others. No one had more power of decision than the president himself, who was not even chosen by the people, but by the skills that this could have to be able to "govern", another way to have control over the unfortunate or marginalized without these being able to do anything. In a simplified way the last word to they, so it suited the rich and not the poor, for the same corruption and greed.

So, Kwon Jiyong lived in a relatively small country, which survived from agronomy and fishing, with a great line separating the rich from the poor, and where the intermediates were to some extent considered "fortunate." He had grown up in a middle-class family, with only two members, his mother and himself, and yet he still couldn't complain much, at least he had an education, a roof and both, he and his mother a job, something more than half of the population of the country, didn't achieve or aspire. Perhaps in a world like this, Jiyong should be apathetic, conformist, like I had mentioned before, because he had nothing to complain about, but it was not like that, the situation in general, everything around bothered him, caused him disgust and degraded, seeing as most of his friends suffer for something to eat or if they will be able to survive one more day, where, no one did anything and everyone folded their arms, it didn't make him feel better. He was tired and if he had to put himself at the foot of the canyon, he would it, although that meant dying to offer a better world to his people, it didn't matter, he, anyway, would do it.

In the end there were only two things Jiyong was sure about:

One: The world was ed up

Two: If he could do something to make it less ed up, he would.

And it was on that day, that Lee Dong Gun, his "dear" ruler, had made the biggest mistake: To send his country in extreme poverty to war. You could almost hear the weeping and wailing in the streets, where desolate by the sad news of their head of state remained empty, with people hidden and fearful. What could they do? From a country that had little or nothing to offer the world, which barely and could live day by day, how would go to war? With what weapons? With what people? With the starving in the streets? Those who never in their life had even looked at a book?

It seemed absurd and a cruel joke, a whim of his ruler, a silly game for him, "What face Dong Gun had to do this?" Jiyong asked angry, watching the television, with his mother who kept crying, what had he done for the people besides living well at the expense of their taxes and the hard work of others? Then he got up, kissed his mother's forehead and left. He was not willing to let a minute more, a guy who didn't come out of his bubble of luxury, protected by thousands of bodyguards and never once had looked at those who needed him, do what he wanted and hurt their country. Finishing it with a suicidal act.

Jiyong bring people together, people just as tired as him, where through meetings talked about how to stop all this madnes