When I was in second grade (1988), a classmate instructed me that stealing a bakery for 3 cents, in a gastronomy, is a pledge. There were no surveillance cameras at the time, as did the guards. And the fucking fuck me to spit that baking cake. I didn’t have three copies. There were much more.

I waited for two days until they came from the police. Of course, no one came after me. But I, tormented by my conscience, three days later, silently put 20 copies on the bench. I could buy ice cream. But getting rid of the pain of conscience is more expensive.