My German is improving, not hard since it is almost non-existent and so has nowhere else to go. i persist in my hopeful theory, that if i can become fluent in the Bosche, it will act as a bridge between this life & my last, and so i will remember more than scraps, bits & pieces of that peculiar life. i spent a while exposing myself to the art i liked then – the high art of Europe before the war, Brahms being about as modern as it gets. However, i’ve never felt any sense of recognition, any ripple of response from that earlier life.

On the s-bahn home yesterday, i played some German music on my ipod; to my surprise i felt a distinct frisson – not of recognition, memory, but rather a connection to the language, the sounds, rhythms, the power and strangeness of it.

That’s right, i was listening to Rammstein. Perhaps one of many ways of distinguishing Elberry from the person i once was, is to say Elberry likes Rammstein and the other person liked Brahms. Of course, Elberry likes Brahms too but i doubt i would have liked Rammstein, then, had a time traveller brought some back from the 21st Century; though it would have been edifying to witness his response, from a safe distance.

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