Friday, January 20, 1984

Slept restlessly. Dreamed of evil wardens, mean snitches and brutal thugs.

Wardens are the least of my worries, I’ve been washed in all kinds of water since my earliest childhood: At three to five in a children’s weekly home, from six to eleven in after-school care and “vacation games”, with various vacation camps in between. As a teenager in a “work and recreation camp“. Finally, an apprentice hostel and pre-military training.

Informers wouldn’t enjoy me either, as the Stasi had long known everything about me. Since the summer of 1982 at the latest … In early summer, the cops counted me out on Alex because they didn’t like my “Swords to Plowshares” patch.

Authentic photo from my Stasi file. It shows me on Alexanderplatz in Berlin in the summer of 1982.
Authentic photo from my Stasi file. It shows me on Alexanderplatz in Berlin in the summer of 1982.

In late summer, the Stasi dragged me into a surveillance van because I was allegedly behaving in an inflammatory manner. Which was definitely not true. No matter – they never want to see me here again. Berlin ban! Message arrived – the East can go fuck itself. 

Normally I avoid fights. But when they are unavoidable, I can take a lot and retaliate fiercely. Most recently, my stepfather had to learn never to touch me again. When I was fourteen, I ripped a bullwhip out of his fist and kicked and punched him back until my mother intervened before one of us died. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭…

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