We parked in a street that can only exist as such in The East: die Strasse der Opfer des Faschismus
(exactly that long… street for the victims of fascism).
I was there for another reason though. We went to ‘see’ a concert. Gregorian Voices – eight men in monks’ cowls. I could hardly concentrate on their voices as people really had to talk… whisper… play with their bags… and then on their way out the door they discuss ‘Oh what fabulous voices’.

Oh, if those people had some decency at all they would know that the performance was average… below any international standard. What ignorance… that people don’t realise… they don’t see… and they sure don’t have dementia.

This morning I sifted through my seven diaries I left in Germany.. I couldn’t ever imagine life without a diary (but back then there were times without writing, at times for years)… and in almost all of them I express my frustration about mankind’s ignorance. A typical red thread running through many generations.

Visit to a local chocolate museum. My second choco museum this week. Can’t get enough. While waiting for the tour guide I flipped through a book about chocolate therapy, what your favourite chocolate says about you and how you fold or twist the wrapper. All an expression of your true personality – although the wrapping is more related to un-wrapping in sensory terms.
I can now tell you all about African and South American chocolate beans, even decided to keep one in my pursue (it’ll take the place of the small stone currently cuddling with the coins) for matters of luck.

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