Every problem choking Pilegron today has the same root: the banks. They own the squares, they own the borough councils, they own the ink in the newspapers that slander
Kowloon day and night. They profit while the rest of the city pays in blood, sweat, and broken backs.
The banks tell us we are “unsafe.” They call our homes “illegal.” Yet who built glass towers no one can afford to enter? Who locked away the riverfront so only the rich may breathe its air? Who funds the campaigns to bulldoze our neighborhoods and exile our families? It is the bankers, and the parasites who bow to them.
We say enough. Imagine Pilegron without banks: no more marble fortresses blocking
Hammer Square, no more chains of debt around the necks of workers, no more boroughs auctioned off to the highest bidder. In their place, we build a city run by its people — where homes are not investments but shelters, where markets belong to the hands that feed them, where the wealth of Pilegron serves every child, not a handful of shareholders.
They will call it radical. They will call it dangerous. But what is more dangerous — our dream of a socialist utopia, or their reality of endless poverty beside endless greed?
Kowloon shows what is possible. We govern ourselves, we feed ourselves, we rebuild ourselves. If the city followed our model, there would be no hunger, no homelessness, no banks fattening themselves while the poor scrape by. The utopia is not a fantasy — it is within reach, if we tear down the marble walls and take back what was stolen.
We do not want to live under capitalism’s whip. We want a Pilegron where every hand matters, and no banker rules. That future begins when the banks are gone.