Sunday, May 5, 2019

Something stolen

I got mugged once.  I was about thirty and waiting for the bus.  This big guy came along and asked for money.  When I said no, he cuffed me and got really threatening, so I ended up giving him all $42 I had on hand.  The only thing that really bothered me was that my sister questioned my judgement. (She felt that I was too careless with money and should have run away or something.) Well, she wasn't there, was she?  My father said he would have done the same thing, but I'm still not sure if I want to be like my father.

I remember that when we visited Prague in the Czech Republic my father's pocket got picked.  It was a group of three guys working together on the subway train, who bumped into us at the same time coming from different directions. (I noticed an older man who seemed to be their mentor.) My father had his wallet in his back pocket and that's what they took.  My own wallet was in a safer position.

One of the saddest movies I've ever seen is the Italian movie The Bicycle Thief.  Directed by the neo-realist Vittorio de Sica, it's about a man whose job depends on his bicycle, which gets stolen, so he and his son go on a search for it.  Very well done, but I don't think I could see it again.

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