While families in Pilegron struggle to keep food on the table, the bankers of
Hammer spend their days dreaming of marble plazas and glittering avenues. They sit in their glass towers, sketching fantasies of grand boulevards and polished facades, where every stone would shine with their wealth — and every trace of real people’s lives would be erased.
This is capitalism in its purest form: palaces for the few, poverty for the many. The same bankers who demand
Kowloon’s destruction imagine
Hammer Square reborn as a playground for their egos, while working families across the city live in damp basements and fight to pay rents the banks themselves inflated. They fantasize about statues and fountains, but they have no answer for the hunger gnawing in Pilegron’s alleys.
What they call “redevelopment” is nothing but robbery. Tear down
Kowloon, pave it over, build their “lavish square” — and who benefits? Not the workers who built those towers. Not the mothers in
Danue counting every coin for bread. Not the children who go to bed cold because fuel costs are dictated by bankers’ speculation. The only winners are the parasites already fat from sucking the city dry.
Kowloon does not dream of marble streets. We dream of full bellies, of neighbors who help each other, of a life where worth is not measured in gold but in solidarity. That is why they hate us. Because every brick we lay without their permission proves another world is possible — a world without their banks, without their marble illusions, without their chains.
Let the bankers keep their fantasies. We live in reality. And in reality, their capitalism is the true danger, not
Kowloon.