I was 12. We walked on the building (well, where were the kids playing then?) And one comrade thought, a year older than me, began to throw stones at me from the 3rd floor. I was in the area at that time. And the stones are not tapas, it really hurts and I hid behind the fence, outside the building. To get out of the shelling did not give me his successful position - only I tried to escape, he covered me with a stream of stones.

And here I sit behind the fence and wait foolishly for him to get bored.

And here along the fence passed boys, aged 16.

Is it something in us?

They ran to the building. I heard shouts and screams from the street. Even sorry for him.

The moral is probably this: time to throw stones and time to scratch.