Everyday the poor live, the memory of pain live with them. They sleep and wake with it. Always life remains the same without change. Is never a stratify story that the poor in the version of existence are living. It is a reality that never speaks of how the history of millions of poor in ghettos, in the world they carry their life in thorny plate. In this ghetto I long visited, it tells a lot of stories which the ink can’t exhaust inscribing all day. The motive for this is that, the everyday that passes the volume of rag-tag colony experiences continues to fill the basin. These experiences weigh volumes or scenes of how an oppressed class is deprive from the value of having life to fullness, is categorize to remain in such an environment that today and tomorrow will never stop bleeding pains and tears. When I was in this community life there has no meaning in the book of those acclaim government who uses the poor plight as an opportunity to bridge their interest