I was six or seven years old when this story happened. We lived not far from the school, and the place where all the local spaniards gathered in their free time was the school stadium. Played there football or defeated the old stone fence, or walked into the old warehouse with school equipment, from where the old iron nuclei were dragged for throwing, didn't get bored, shorter. Through this stadium and slope in the fence was a trail, which was closer to go to the desired area than to bypass the whole school, and next to this trail in the rain was a huge slope. And here, somehow, I picked up a bunch of pebbles, I stand by this pebble, and I throw these stones into it, it is so fascinating - to watch the dirty splashes fly out, directly charming, and I look, a young man goes, I can't say, really, what age, but not a teenager, all in the light, shirt and pants, looked at me, and said - don't drop. I have a huge stone over my head. He passes by the pit, and why I still threw the stone, I don’t know. I dropped, and stuck, I look like this guy, all in dirty drops, looks at me and approaches. I was terribly frightened, I thought - a trumpet to me. And he approached, gently raised me on his arms, you know, as the husband holds the bride in the pictures, and put it straight into this pit. He returned and left. and all. I was crying out of anger for a day, probably two in a row. Long years of life! I stopped being shit because of you.