I was brought to the village as a child (5-6 years old). We lived with my aunt. Well, I was playing there, doing every kind of childhood stuff. My aunt asked me to help:

“I’ll burn the old boards, and you, little boy, put them in the fire (so they called the prisoner).”

And I am happy to help. But there was one, but my father burned on the street. Well, my aunt’s boards are old pills, I catch them and bring them to my father in the fire. The aunt sprinkled everything, walked past the pollen and asked:

Where are the boards?and¿

I answered proudly:

How is it? In the fire!! to

And I bring it to the fire, and there its plates burn...