1945, zero hour. After the downfall of Prussia from the end of the German Reich. That is a subject for generations. Still in a condition of trivial documentation before the arrival of authors of specialist books. Charging the material of many suicides and guilt and violation, crime and punishment and revenge and new guilt, tragedies that escape the profanation systems of the entertainment industry and its consumption. The overturning history of reality already forged into new realities.
The cruelty of the eastern victory was commensurate with the nature of its system and came about on behalf of wicked intellectual instincts. But the base thing was that these cruelties had to be celebrated as liberation and accepted by the intellectuals in a relativizing manner, since the machinery of Hitlerian cruelty was offset against that of Stalin. But pains are not to be understood in a relative manner. This madness of suffering slumbers deep in the people, who act as if at peace, and rich as never before, deeply sick to their innermost, from which art is supposed to arise. Tossed between pain and consumerism, their guilt writhing in oppressed dreams. The old model, the well-known model of the deranged people in the ghetto. The one self-chosen for their freedom.