My thoughts go to the Polish elite, killed twice : by the NKVD in the Spring of 1940, and by an unfortunate accident in the Spring of 2010. That same morning, I was learning how to ride a motorcycle but I lost the group I was part of at the red light and they did not wait for me. I called the instructor on his cell phone and he said I should meet them. I was having trouble starting the engine, and I was afraid. After calling him again, I managed to start the engine, it accelerated too fast and out of control. I fell and broke my right hand, more specifically I broke a tiny bone at the base of my right thumb.