1986, deeply into the East German province

A priest stands, smile, nods.

A friendly word here and there.

It’s Sunday. 4 hours earlier he woke to “Owner of a lonely heart”.

And woke the whole family.

I am 6 years old.

Running around.

Imagining what it’s like to be respected like this.

Not knowing the hate and fear flying in his face every day.

I imagine being like him.

Not knowing the fight he fights for my future.

Not yet understanding the brutalism of the regime we live in.

But soon I will be called pig son of the pig priest.

Soon I will draw a robot eating weapons when we write lyrics about the great national army.

And not too long after that the system will fall with the wall.

But until then, my father impresses me.