The rib of the LP12

I am sitting at Schwedtsee in Fürstenberg / Havel. I went here because I wanted to feed the ducks, with the rib I was given yesterday in the Emperor, in the Mall of Berlin on Potsdamer Platz to my potato soup, which I no longer ate, since I was full and she for the Ducks at Schwedtsee took home to feed them. A few yards from me, a grandmother is sitting with her little grandson and they are feeding those ducks.
“If I bring her out now, the rib, and the ducks begin to feed, the ducks would swim away from the boy, and he would sit there with his bread, and would probably be sad and crying.” I do not want to see him cry, too many tears have already flowed into this lake, he should keep this experience in his childish memory to later perhaps even remember it and it should then conjure a smile on his face. ” Thus, I let the LP12-Schrippe still a while where it is now, carefully packed in a napkin, well stowed away in my backpack.
The backpack that I carry around for so many days, weeks, months and that makes my neck stiffer and my back slack. “Where have not we been everywhere, my backpack and me, at Wannsee, on the suicide cemetery at Nicos grave – an incredible peace and atmosphere surrounds this place, oh, sighs my heart, here I find my last rest, past the devil mountain we drove up the Bergmannstraße up and down, we saw Bowie in the Martin-Gropius-Bau and Arcade Fire in the Wuhlheide – oh Freek, yes Freek is dead already one year now. “
Back at the Schwedtsee, awakened from my stream of thoughts, I let my eyes wander. In front of me the yachts, rented by tourists, they sail along the Mecklenburg Lake District. In the background the former concentration camp Ravensbrück. 
“Just think of them again, the gruesome stories that Anja Lundholm recently told me in her book about her time in Ravensbrück, which I recently read.” Had she or one of her comrades at that time been able to get this mine from me? if it had lived one day longer … “
Instead, my gaze lingers on an orange-purple spot on one of those jetties between all the expensive yachts. At first I can not classify this colored dot, but then it starts to move – get up, kneel down, stretch yourself long and over again in the same turn. 
“Slowly my brain understands this point and creates a figure, the point is probably a woman, a tourist who practices yoga there on the jetty.” 
New yachts moor, but she does not let herself be stopped by her ceremony, gets down on her knees and stretches long. 
“I wonder what’s going on in her …” 
– The boy with his grandmother is long history and I start to feed the ducks with a clear conscience, even a seagull is there ….
“Perhaps one of these feathered animals has the soul of a Ravensbrück woman and I feed her insatiable hunger from that time …” 
The orange-purple woman will not let go of me, “meditate here in memory of a loved one lost, here on Schwedtsee Or is she just a tourist who, with her husband, lawyer in a good location in Berlin Mitte, completely unaware, just wants to relax from her stressful everyday life in the big city? 
I do not know and probably never will experience.” 
The last crumbs are fed to the fish.
I get up, take one last look at the woman, the ducks, the seagull and Ravensbrück and turn around and smile, because the only good thing about this madness is to have kept the child happy. 

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