 There's a man called John Paul Richter, a German writer. He's dead now. But he said that he was born in the Black Forest. His father was a woodcutter. And they lived in a small hut. And there was a pile of manure outside their door always because his father had horses to drag the lumber. And he went out one morning when he was two and a half, three, about two and a half or three years. And...