Yesterday walking down a very Turkish street I saw four groups of boys, one after the other, carrying large, menacing, (plastic) bazookas. One held his fake sub-machine gun to his friend’s head as the friend squirmed and several times tried to bat it away. An eight-year old carrying the Ramadan bread tucked it under his arm and pulling a pistol from his pocket shot his five-year-old brother in the face. Then they both walked on, their pistols bulging in the pockets, carrying the bread of God and guns like it was nothing.
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