Last year I packed little parcels with small change, a sage leaf and a tiny firecracker.
This year I had hardly any energy for that, but I still knew what I’d do for the kids.
I lit a bright white path to the door with black light, the dog peeking through a glowing white curtain, and set out a bowl with three kinds of sweets.
Since that wasn’t enough, I added beach pebbles, chestnuts from my own tree and a little loose change.
What astonished me was how the children behaved.
They trampled up, stood silent until something was handed out, and left again, while their parents coaxed thank-yous out of them.
They took only a single piece from the huge bowl, so I had to keep urging them to grab a whole handful.
Is that the new upbringing, that you never help yourself and must wait to be given something?
Perfect training for slavery, or so it seems.
I suspect it will backfire, and the unleashed slaves will do the exact opposite of what they were conditioned to do.
Only once was it really busy, with hundreds of children and a crowd of adults in front of my house.
The media seemed disappointed that Germany had no French-style riots.
Afterwards I cooked liver with onions and my own apples, and ate well.
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