When I was a brat I read Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo about 6 times. That’s why I’ll never take a milligram of heroin, I’m too much frightened. Terrified. Shocked – yes, “shocked” is the word I needed, because if you read Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo about 6 times when you’re about 8 years old, you’re teaching yourself the way you’re going to feel the world. But “teaching” isn’t correct, I’d prefer bilden – and Angst instead of “terrified”.
Berlin has been a collapsed city before the WWII, and ghosts of its dead shape follow me in my dreams; it’s been (half of it) the DDR-city – and DDR makes me frightened much more than the entire Holocaust (“Why do you study Holocaust?” “It’s less distressing than DDR.”); it’s the motherland of Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo; so, I wonder why the hell that city is so interesting to me.
The name Berlin, which is pronounced /bɚˈlɪn/ in English and /bɛɐˈliːn/ in German, is of unknown origin, but may be related to the Old Polabian stem berl-/birl- “swamp”.
I should study German phonetics, yeah. And DDR, yeah. I’m studying German history for the fourth time, but I can’t spend my life studying Friedrich II, Bismarck and NSDAP. Sooner or later I should face DDR – with its boring buildings, boring clothes, few boring brand names, distressing boring things that are distressing beacuse still there.