As a child, I lived in the village of my grandmother. She asked to bring the goose from the stake. During the journey from the stake one of them stopped walking, apparently injured, had to take on his hands and carry to the sarai. Until he had time to get attached to him. We come with a bunch and I with goats on my arms, my grandmother is doing something near the sarai. I stood, gave what I had on my hands with the words that he was apparently injured. The naive child’s brain was sure that we would start treating him. Grandma immediately assessed the situation, took a tail and cut off his head. Childhood injuries are damn. Life is pain