The pickpocket who got away in time

The pickpocket lived in a country with a furrowed brow, dragging itself along painfully, sometimes fearful of insecurity, sometimes distrustful of the politicians who wanted to end it. He lived in a tired country that had swapped revolution for rebellion, discussion for yawning, the sea for the sofa in front of the television. He rebelled. He burst out laughing, and the orderly country, subservient to soap operas and fearful of inflation, was scared. A state of siege was declared. The government went into exile, the people took refuge at home, and the pickpocket fled to heaven. He hides in a cloud, somewhere between the sunrise and the North Star. Some still say today that they can hear the roar of cannons. Others assure them they can't. It's just the pickpocket laughing mercilessly at the insecure country, hesitant between a soap opera and a football match.