In a cold winter night in a remote village from Québec, Canada, in 1990, me and my two brothers were asleep. We were 1, 3, and 6 years old.
In the middle of the night, someone entered our house without knocking, walked around and was talking to himself. Our house is 2 miles from the village, in a rural area.
My father woke up, went to the living room where the guy was. He had a car accident one mile from our house with his buddy who died instantly, and his scalp fell in front of his face, so the first time my father saw him, he saw a man with no face. He was drunk and his body was frozen. He was speaking to himself: <> Which means <>. The fact that his face was partially frozen might have saved his lives, preventing him to lose too much blood. My father took him to the hospital at 25 km from our house by car. He did survive.
To this day, my father is still blessing the fact that we never woke up during the night with all the noise.