Yesterday i started to scan images from 1990 - which was a highly turbulent year, which would peak into total chaos in 1991. It was the year after the Berlin wall fell - and it was the year in which I started to reconnect to my past, the places of my childhood in Berlin-Rudow (1969-1974), and I even visited my parents for the first time, after I had left Germany on 17 April 1984 in order to start my life in Sweden.

 

40°C fever

So, it all was highly charged with strong emotions, Aug 1990. I remember that just prior (or right in the beginning) of my 4-5 week journey to Berlin, I got 40°C fever.

It has been 30 years that I dealt with these negatives - so now I have images of my father from 1990 when he was around 52 years old, and my stepmother, when she was 43 years old.

 

Today, in 2022

when I look at the images - I feel almost nothing. Like I said earlier, during several visits to Berlin back in 2019, during which I once revisited the exactly same place, I felt nothing. I felt a peace. It felt like a tourist, visiting a place with distant memories - and the area had changed significantly. For example it is today extreme green, the trees are huge.

One not though; last night i had suddenly a moderate fever with 38°C. I became aware of it, as I was dealing with scanning and post processing negatives and started to wonder, if I had fever. So i measured after midnight, surprised to find out that it was elevated at 38.°C.

(I may add, that I have an unexpected inflammation in my lower bowl which has given me trouble in the past 4 days, and could have been cause of my fever).

 

Each image above

is "charged" with memories. The door to the apartment where my mom and I lived. And the place where she took her life in the age of 28.

However, to be honest, I am not interested to speak or write about my past - because I have done that in my diary plenty of times (20 years ago; during the first 6 years of my Internet diary). There is no desire to write about it as it would feel like repeating a dark "mantra", with all the stories over and over again. There is no need and I feel largely at peace about my past.

I don't hate my parents. There is nothing to hate. It was sad, very sad and extremely haunting... Yet I can't help it, but I don't feel much about it today (which has nothing to do with denial - on the contrary, I have dealt with it so many times, there I am done with it).

It only feels a bit strange to see those images again... that's all.


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