Der graue Novembertag könnte einem Roman entsprungen sein. Noch trostloser, noch nasskälter, noch nebliger und noch grauer konnte ein Tag wohl kaum sein. Nichtmal richtig hell wollte es an diesem Tag werden und dennoch. Bei genauerer Betrachtung, war alles eine perfekte und wunderschöne Komposition. Eine Komposition from the dull gray and the still-bright colors of the last leaves that clung trembling in dead branches. . .
It is earlier her Sunday afternoon as I at 08 November at the former and rather lonely jog Wall Trail. The sun is hiding behind thick clouds of the sky, like a gray horse-blanket coat. The foliage of the shrubs and trees has spread like a carpet laid over the cracked asphalt and curbs my steps. The small golden leaves of birches, the brown leaves of beech or oak leaves is bright red like a wonderful Pottbourrie from the horn of plenty of the Colors, motley arranged at my feet and breathes this day a melancholy mood.
I enjoy trotting along this narrow path. . . over many kilometers he runs some straight all around. On the eastern side of the road are now most of the big fields and flocks of crows are distributed between the stalks of harvested corn. Nothing looks more like the fact that here 20 years ago this city was over. If you will not occasionally pointed out by signs would, one would not notice that here is a wall d as country gete ilt hat. In Gedanken versunken, den Blick ein paar Met er vor mir auf den Boden gerichtet, laufe ich vor mich hin. Meine Beine finden Ihren Rythmus ganz alleine, ohne das ich daran einen Gedanken verschwenden muss und ein Blick auf meine Pulsuhr zeigt, dass Sie es richtig machen. Laufen ist Balsam für den Körper und die Seele.
. . . . in der Ferne taucht am Rand des Weges ein leuchtender Pfosten auf und als ich näher komme sehe ich einen Kranz an Ihm liegen, ein rotes Gedenklicht und ein Strauß frischer Blumen. Vor ein paar Wochen, war hier noch nichts . . . An dem Pfosten ein Bild von einem jungen Mann. It is a small memorial, a tribute to one MENSCHNER overcome the here in trying the man's land, had to have his life. A reminder that over there there was a police state and a dictatorship, run away what the people wanted. Even today it is still inconceivable to me that this limit and the political system, establish what you could be responsible for the deaths of so many people had. Also incomprehensible that so many people from over there, in view of the dead, can thus transfiguring think about your DDR.
I was born in 1964 in West Berlin, the wall was already standing. As a schoolboy I often get the summer holidays Suburbs with my aunt and uncle Gisela Rudi spent directly on the wall. We played in the fields and have been trying to catch frogs in the pools and occasionally, we have stones thrown over the wall, or painted it with chalk, just because. . . on the other side of the wall, which was good 4m high, have no children played. . . there was no man's land, 20 meters wide finely raked sand, Stalin grass, spring guns, truck locks, guard towers, moats and armed border guards with guard dogs.
Now you no longer exist, and anyone can walk in any direction. People are different, Ossi, Wessinger. . . it will take long before the Wall torn in the heads is probably me. . . but the wall is gone, that has separated this country, the political system which let you build once and that's good. No question.
After 12km I'm back at your door. In the cold, my breath is good to see and otherwise I burn like a horse in front of me. The hot water in the shower steams well and relaxed, I enjoy this moment. It was a surprisingly nice drive even if I'm long gone as fast as just over 2 years, but I do not run often enough, but that is not me also. I look down on me. . . the bodybuilding and my hard work, thank, I have been 12kg more time now on the ribs. . . and that's a good thing.
It is earlier her Sunday afternoon as I at 08 November at the former and rather lonely jog Wall Trail. The sun is hiding behind thick clouds of the sky, like a gray horse-blanket coat. The foliage of the shrubs and trees has spread like a carpet laid over the cracked asphalt and curbs my steps. The small golden leaves of birches, the brown leaves of beech or oak leaves is bright red like a wonderful Pottbourrie from the horn of plenty of the Colors, motley arranged at my feet and breathes this day a melancholy mood.
I enjoy trotting along this narrow path. . . over many kilometers he runs some straight all around. On the eastern side of the road are now most of the big fields and flocks of crows are distributed between the stalks of harvested corn. Nothing looks more like the fact that here 20 years ago this city was over. If you will not occasionally pointed out by signs would, one would not notice that here is a wall d as country gete ilt hat. In Gedanken versunken, den Blick ein paar Met er vor mir auf den Boden gerichtet, laufe ich vor mich hin. Meine Beine finden Ihren Rythmus ganz alleine, ohne das ich daran einen Gedanken verschwenden muss und ein Blick auf meine Pulsuhr zeigt, dass Sie es richtig machen. Laufen ist Balsam für den Körper und die Seele. 
. . . . in der Ferne taucht am Rand des Weges ein leuchtender Pfosten auf und als ich näher komme sehe ich einen Kranz an Ihm liegen, ein rotes Gedenklicht und ein Strauß frischer Blumen. Vor ein paar Wochen, war hier noch nichts . . . An dem Pfosten ein Bild von einem jungen Mann. It is a small memorial, a tribute to one MENSCHNER overcome the here in trying the man's land, had to have his life. A reminder that over there there was a police state and a dictatorship, run away what the people wanted. Even today it is still inconceivable to me that this limit and the political system, establish what you could be responsible for the deaths of so many people had. Also incomprehensible that so many people from over there, in view of the dead, can thus transfiguring think about your DDR. I was born in 1964 in West Berlin, the wall was already standing. As a schoolboy I often get the summer holidays Suburbs with my aunt and uncle Gisela Rudi spent directly on the wall. We played in the fields and have been trying to catch frogs in the pools and occasionally, we have stones thrown over the wall, or painted it with chalk, just because. . . on the other side of the wall, which was good 4m high, have no children played. . . there was no man's land, 20 meters wide finely raked sand, Stalin grass, spring guns, truck locks, guard towers, moats and armed border guards with guard dogs.
Now you no longer exist, and anyone can walk in any direction. People are different, Ossi, Wessinger. . . it will take long before the Wall torn in the heads is probably me. . . but the wall is gone, that has separated this country, the political system which let you build once and that's good. No question.
After 12km I'm back at your door. In the cold, my breath is good to see and otherwise I burn like a horse in front of me. The hot water in the shower steams well and relaxed, I enjoy this moment. It was a surprisingly nice drive even if I'm long gone as fast as just over 2 years, but I do not run often enough, but that is not me also. I look down on me. . . the bodybuilding and my hard work, thank, I have been 12kg more time now on the ribs. . . and that's a good thing.
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