At the end of Ardi’s street was a boy named Reza, commonly known as Reza Allaf. When we were younger he came off as one of the thugs of the neighborhood although now that we were older he willingly socialized with us. He walked with a limp and crutches, the result of a motorcycle accident for which he was going through treatment and physiotherapy while fighting to get the other party in the accident to pay for his medical bills. Due to his limited mobility we would all just gather around him as he told us various tales of adventures that he had had. When describing them, he would also add sound effects when appropriate although he never seemed to get the sound effect right. For example he would be describing how a police car would be chasing him with its siren wailing and then make sounds of a cat meowing. Each night at the conclusion of his tales he would readily admit that half of the things he said he had made up although he would then justify it by saying as long as we were entertained it didn’t matter whether the stories were true or not.