The poorest of the poor of the wretchedest of the wretched; those eyes and those smiles meeting the wrinkles around the corners of your mouths.
The wretchedest of the poor, and the gloat, the theory of development, of the foundation of giving.
the downtroddenest looking up to the temple of the few to the god of the few who will save the few.
The few who conquered, mattered, are mattering, battering the theory of development down the throats of the wretchedest.
And all those in between, the us, the them, the gray; history speaks only in stutters, in theory, in bunches to the us, the in between.
The particulars of the many are snubbed out by the categories of the few.