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.
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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