Archive for the ‘Schicksalstag’ Category

The place I am from,

we don’t have washing machines:

we do it by hand.

Dagmar frowned. She rolled her lips in and bit down, her face a study in consternation.

Dagmar had never before considered herself rightwing, far from it. But now, how, other people and places and society and events and the media, they all pointed pretty clearly to her (the thoughts in her head) and proclaimed: Nazi! Racist! Misanthrope!

Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m far-right, the worst of the worst, as they say, no love or charity for humanity. Hateful, full of hate. Me? How can it be? I still feel like the Communist I was a child. Nothing’s changed and everything’s changed. I want to go to sleep and wake up and find that things are back the way they were, back when *I* had hope of a better life. … Fucking refugees!