The young fools were out in throves. "We are better than them", my uncle would say as he looked out into the distance, as though he were not speaking to me, but all those worthy of listening. In those days, I never knew much about the world, and in my naivety was unable to understand why these boys would do such a thing. When I saw that they looked different, I was never filled with any fear or anger. And yet every story told made me wonder all the more whether I was in fact worse than them. "But we must pity them, for they will never learn", he would say. The thick frames of his glasses looked quite beautiful at the time. I looked at his noble face looming above me, and I wondered how it was possible for anyone to dislike this man. At the time, I never appreciated it, but there was a true dignity in the way he carried himself. Were I subject to what he went through, I would certainly have let blind rage take over me. Sometimes, I still think back to that day, and wish that I had the strength to have gone up to them and... But the more I thought about him, the more I began to realize that what he did was right. We did not pick up our pace - he in fact began to walk slower. He calmly turned towards them, with that look in his face that is now forever etched in my memory.