like fish a fish on a string

In the Namdaemun market in Seoul I found these creatures staring slack-jawed at the thronging crowd all purchasing the knock-off Louis Vitton bags and designer undergarments.

I think it was their accusatory, faithless stares that made me wonder whether the tiny country of South Korea, a country who for centuries has withstood the brutal onslaughts of its power-hungry neighbours, has gained anything by selling their cultural identity to great myth of independence through capitalism.

I get the distinct impression that these little souls, strung up to dry in the sun amidst the noise and the stink of the city of Seoul, are yelling their silent warnings of another enemy at the gate; an enemy that the South Korean nation is falling to, shedding green bills more copiously than any blood spilled in any war fought on the soil on this Land of Morning Calm.