He strode cautiously amid shattered furniture strewn on the street, here and there hopping over shards from broken toilets and sinks.  Residents had hurled anything that could come unhinged out windows and over balconies onto people marching in support of the opposition. Security forces had anticipated some dousing or rock-throwing at worst, but over a hundred opposition supporters had been injured, two critically.  He took account of the litter and estimated that, in the distance between the first two intersections, fifty families would seek to replace their furniture.  There were seven more intersections worth of residential street to traverse, a potential 350 more customers.  He could already see an incentive offering each of them 15% off furniture with every successful referral.  He stood at the first intersection lost in a reverie of belief that his boss would finally recognize his head for business.  This could earn him enough for a year of college.  This was that moment of "when opportunity knocks."  He walked the next block and the next.  There were clearly going to be many needy customers, and he had begun to wonder what in them had made them hurl their own furniture just to see it get broken.  By the fifth block, he felt overwhelmed by, What kinds of hurt do people — who don't mind injuring themselves just to make a point — thoughtlessly inflict on others?  By the sixth block, he was imagining himself in a war zone, seeking escape.  It took a week before he let himself think again of his business proposal, and for only a moment at that, only to suggest to himself that a head for business was no good without a stomach for it.