Kind of a weird one, mainly on his childhood.
When we went to fight, I remember, we had in our city this huge conflict. And we fought one inner-city suburb against another. We gathered, something like a thousand of us, and we fought against their thousand. We gathered on one huge, abandoned-building site, picked up sticks, basically anything that came to hand, rocks, and started fighting.
We overturned cars, sometimes police cars. And that's not normal you know. It's youth. Basically, one of our friends was hurt by the kids in the neighboring suburb and then friends of friends and friends of their friends came, and that's how it eventually happened. Many people showed up. The authorities didn't know what to do with us, where to send us.
Basically like in Russia, a long time ago. Fist fights on holidays and during celebrations. Men would drink, go outside, take their shirts off and then go fight each other in big groups. And straight after all go back to drinking again. Like real men used to do here. Gather, fight and then everything is fine again.
Like I said, they never had time. Not for me. My mother was constantly suffering at work. I never saw my father. The streets brought us up. All these memories, everything that I am remembering of, I want to tell you about something happy, that I remember some happy moments, but there aren't any. They were times of change, hungry times, cold and I grew up on the streets.