"Mid-February 1990 and the Berlinale is on. This is the first time I've been back in town since the fall of the Wall. And just like in previous years, my first port of call is Potsdamer Platz. I don't need to climb up on to the viewing platform this time. After having my passport stamped, I can carry on. In my mind's eye, I try imagining what Potsdamer and Leipziger Platz used to look like once upon a time: Hotel Fürstenhof, Haus Vaterland the great eating establishment, Potsdamer Bahnhof, Pschorr-Bräuhaus, Café Josty. And there used to be the von Schinkel gatehouses and the Wertheim department store at the crossing to Leipziger Platz.
I go back. Someone wants to sell me a piece of the Wall. I tell him I couldn't put such a thing up on my shelf. 'This construction has been the source of so much pain. People have died.' He looks at me uncomprehendingly.
I continue towards the Brandenburg Gate. I look up towards the Quadriga and see a man in a wheelchair on the Wall. Who got the white-haired man up there? Is the young woman, who is struggling somewhat, his daughter? Has a longstanding wish been fulfilled? My questions have remained unanswered since that afternoon."
Klaus Gerhardt
