And always the same image. One has two eyes too many. Sometimes, only at night, you think you know the way. Maybe we always return the path which we have laboriously won in the alien sun at night. It could be. The sun is heavy, as with us in the deep summer. But we said goodbye during the summer. The women’s dresses shine for a long time from the green. And now we ride along. So it must be autumn. At least there, where sad women know about us.
Rainer Maria Rilke
How is it possible to write about someone you last saw more than a quarter of a century ago and whom you didn’t really know back then, even though you had experienced so much together? How to explain it, those crazy times when we all had one foot in prison every day and still went to bed every night with peace of mind. I recently met an old companion by chance right in front of my apartment building in Kreuzberg, and we talked about “the three” from K.O.M.I.T.E.E., about old connections that were cut off because of the escape, about the twisted paths that some of the old companions used to keep in touch with the comrades over the years. There is still much that cannot be told publicly, even if it seems that the efforts of the German judiciary to get hold of the three do not seem to be crowned with success at the moment. A few months ago, the initiative “Bring The Boys Back Home” was even born, with the aim of enabling the three to return to Germany legally.
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