I was 9-10 years old and, like any generation, I walked with my girlfriends in the gardens. Everyone had their own gardens, but as they say, the neighbor and the grass are greener and the crochet is more delicious.

We were four. We sat behind the fence and wrapped up an unwashed crusher, and the older one of us decided that it would not be better for us to put our hands in the fence, it would be better for her to get into the garden and get bigger, and then it would pass on to us.

The plan was accomplished magnificently, she went into the garden, picked up a cross, handed it over to us and decided to drop from there, but hanged her pants on the fence and could not go down.

As we just didn’t try to remove it, it was pointless. Eventually, seeing the old men walking far away, they asked them to help us. He said, so and so, the keys were forgotten, and the crucifix wanted.

What was our surprise when they, filled with laughter, opened the garden with keys and, on the other hand, cut it off from the fence.

They didn’t argue, but they told us to pick them up. And us what? We gathered, and ate, and then gave us one more.