So if funny or not so funny, if you asked my mother's story about this topic, is when I was 11 and a half years old, we visited me and my parents and my sister and brother here in New York, for the first time was late 90s. So all their kidnapping, I guess their stories were hot. And my mom, of course anyway was like a Jewish mom was scared about everything. And we went down to the subway, and the train just came, I ran first and gutting and the doors were closed. The end of the story that my mom like crazily just put herself on the doors and the doors were open at the end. But my memory and she remembers it of course, like one of the most scariest things that ever happened to her. I was not afraid. Like at all. I wasn't worried. And even after that happened, they asked me what would you do if the train would just go? And of course, the right answer is to go down in the next station. But in an 11 year old girl mind like it's around half of the train. So I told them I would just stay on the train. And thank God the doors were open. But even after I they told me like, okay, no, if it happens again, you go out of the train the next station. I remember I wasn't afraid like somehow, since a very early childhood, I felt good in cities. And in crazy cities like New York, and I know that I fell in love in New York back then not in this specific story. But in that visit as a mother. I first I'm not very anxious mother like compared to Jewish moms, I guess. Of course, I keep my loved ones safe. And yeah, I mean, to me, I feel more safe in this type of urban environment than in a sleepy neighborhood that that no one is around. And this is like the Jane Jacobs type of observation of eyes on the streets, right? I feel safe when other people