Tag Archives: Raven

Narrator – on the way 2


After the death of Raven I spent every year’s winter in South Spain. In the spring I migrated with the birds to the North wandering the summer season in Northern Europe. The wind, the weather and the people I met on my way, gave direction to the temporary shelter in the northern cities.

Vogeltrek[1]

Regularly I visited Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Stockholm and Oslo. The volatile friends from the past were swept away from everyday life by the mysterious disease that had the name AIDS. Several old friends started another life without place for a wandering Bhikṣu. Usually I lived by the street with magic, storytelling and I had started singing.

My performance of Jacques Brel’s “Ne me quitte pas” [2], moved the audience. Parts of the text about shadows – during the night shadows of murdered villagers and in daytime shadows of lost beloved ones – was applicable on my life.

Let me be

Shadow of your shadow

Shadow of your hand

Shadow of your own. [3]

schaduwen[4]

After 18 years wintering in the South and in summertime wandering in the north, I was an adult in my third incarnation; each moment, hour, day, year was different and the same. Although I carried always the shadows from my previous life with me, this simple life rhythm gave some inner peace.

In the autumn I sang lines from “Ne me quitte pas” for an audience on the Leidseplein in Amsterdam:

I, I will give you

Pearls of rain

from lands

Where it never rains.[5]

After singing the words “from lands where it never rains” I knew that my mother had died. Her commandment to move to Amsterdam and its realisation had ended. I bowed to the audience and in honour of her memory I immediately set off “εἰς τὴν Πόλιν” – to the city – to Istanbul [6]. From Istanbul I wished to move to Konia the following spring. It was time to swirl in the footsteps of Rumi [7].

Come, Come, whoever you are,

Wanderer, idolatrous narrator and worshipper of the golden glow,

Come even though you have broken your vows a thousand times,

Come, and come yet again.

Ours is not a caravan of despair. [8]

Derwish[9]

On the road to Istanbul I was accompanied by my mother, like Rumi wrote in a poem:

“My thoughts are in the heart of my mother,

the heart of her will be sick

without the thoughts of me”. [10]

The fourth incarnation in my life had begun. I deviated from my usual autumn migration to South Spain. That year, the winter started early in Middle Europe. Mid November there was already snow. On the way to Istanbul I became adrift by the cold. Early December it froze solid. I had nothing to eat. The next clear night at new moon my breath watched over me. The ghosts and shadows from my life temporary found peace. The frost took me in; earth and firmament were one.

Stone and stilled

Inside and outside

One in the cosmos

Sterrenhemel[11]


[1] Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vogelzug

[2] To be listened via: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=za_6A0XnMyw

[3] Source: Own translation of the last lines from Jacques Brel’s “Ne me quitte pas”.

[4] Source image: http://bat-smg.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abruozdielis:Southwark_Park_Evening_Shadows.JPG

[5] Source: translation of the first lines from the second verse of “Ne me quitte pas” by Jacques Brel.

[6] See also: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Istanbul

[7] Jalāl ad-Dīn – in the West known as Rumi – was born near Balkh in Afghanistan in the 13th century CE. His parents fled for the Huns. Jalāl ad-Dīn received the name Rumi in the Arab world because he lived in Konia South of Ankara in the current Turkey while writing his great works. This part of the Arabic world was identified with Rome from the Roman Empire. Hence Jalāl ad-Dīn is named after the name of his main domicile in the Arab/Persian world. Source: Lewis, Franklin D., Rumi, Past and Present, East and West. Oxford: Oneworld, 2003 p. 9

[8] Free rendering of verses by Rumi. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rumi en Rumi and His Sufi Path of Love (2007) by M Fatih Citlak and Huseyin Bingul, p. 81

[9] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dervish

[10] Free rendering of a poem by Rumi. Source: Nicholson, Reynold A., The Mathnawi of Jalálu’ddin Rúmí, Book II. Cambridge: Biddles Ltd, 2001 p. 281

[11] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Starry_Night

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Narrator – on the way


During my first wintering in South Spain I didn’t need much. My camping equipment was sufficient for my stay at a winter camping in Malaga near the Mediterranean Sea. In the spring I woke up from my winter stay. First I hiked to Granada and then to Cordoba.

In Moorish times around 1000 AD, Cordoba was one of the largest cities in the world with at least half a million inhabitants. At that time Cordoba had the largest library in the world with over 400,000 books and in addition the Mezquita (Mosque) was built with more than 1000 marble columns. In the Catholic times the middle part of the mosque with associated columns was removed to make room for a Cathedral [1].

Mezquita[2]

In the Cordoba mosque with the Cathedral inside, I thought of a Buddhist question from the book received as farewell gift from my late American beloved:

 “The ancient  Buddha’s are merged with the open pillars – what level of activity is this?” When everyone remained speechless, the master himself said for them: “On the South Mountain rising clouds, on the North Mountain falling rain”. [3]

Upon my departure from Copenhagen I left the book behind in the University Library, because this collection of questions did not fit in my backpack. Before I handed the book to the librarian, I read the Buddhist question:

 “When the fire at the end of time rages through and everything is destroyed, is this destroyed or not?”  One master answered: “Destroyed, because it goes along with this”. Another master answered: “Not destroyed, because it is the same as this”. [4]

Apocalypse[5]

During my first wintering in South Spain, I retired. After my life as idol in Amsterdam and my years with my beloved in Sweden and Norway, I had received my income from playing in jazz ensembles and due to my limited share in the work of Raven. In Cordoba my savings were depleted. I had fled from the world of secret services after my safety net was gone with the death of Raven, and in Southern Spain there were no jazz ensembles that were waiting for a percussionist without congas.

A part of my income I got by magic and with telling of stories. The other part of my earnings came from alms. Quite young I was depending on a simple form of pension through a pay-as-you-go system that was in use for many centuries in several parts of Asia. When the role of men or women in a household was finished, they moved to another area where the local people provided them with food during their daily round for alms. The rest of the day they spent on the spiritual life of themselves or the whole universe. The men were called Bhikṣu and the women Bhikṣuṇī; the vulgar Dutch word “bikkesement” for “food” is probably related to this way of begging [6].

Bhikshu[7]

In addition to my night watch for the spirits of the deceased villagers, I started a day watch for the whole universe after my first wintering in South Spain. I began walking in the footsteps of my late American beloved. In the libraries of the large cities in Europe I studied the Holy Scriptures. For access to several books on South Asia, I visited the University Library in Heidelberg.

Heidelberg[8]

In Heidelberg, Raven had studied Philosophy and Linguistics before World War II. In this city I felt the nearness of this beloved who did penance for his actions constantly and who was always on guard for the unveiling of his loyalty and betrayal.

Raaf[9]

After my visit to Heidelberg, I held my nightly and daily vigils for him too.


[1] Sources: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C%C3%B3rdoba,_Andalusia and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Mosque_of_C%C3%B3rdoba

[2] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mosque%E2%80%93Cathedral_of_C%C3%B3rdoba

[3] See the koan “Yunmen’s Pillars” in: Cleary, Thomas, Book of Serenity – One Hundred Zen Dialogues. Bosten: Shambhala, 1998 p. 137 – 139

[4] Free rendering of the koan Dasui’s “Aeonic Fire” in: Cleary, Thomas, Book of Serenity – One Hundred Zen Dialogues. Bosten: Shambhala, 1998 p. 131 – 136

[5] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apocalypse

[6] See also: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhikkhu

[7] Source image: http://jv.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhiksu

[8] Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Universit%C3%A4tsbibliothek_Heidelberg

[9] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Raven

Narrator – A man without a life


Two weeks later I received a letter via post restante in which the successor and nephew of Raven wrote that he wished to see me urgently. I was just about to return to Copenhagen to overwinter there. A day later, I met the cousin of Raven around 11 a.m. near Café Central [1] in the Herrengasse [2] in Vienna.

Cafe central[3]

He looked tired and worried. After polite greetings and ordering a Viennese coffee speciality with pastries, he told me his concerns. A week ago Raven died in an unnatural way. This news shocked me: I condoled him with the loss of his distant uncle. Then he said that the cause of death – murder or suicide – had to be sorted out as soon as possible; the autopsy did not give an univocal result. Our lives could depend on the outcome of this investigation; in case of murder we would have to take into account imminent danger, because the investigation into the past of Raven could have issued  light on cases that, according to some, could not bear the light of day. The successor of Raven had only several suspicions.

Raven’s cousin asked if I could bring him again in touch with Fox for further information about the past. Unfortunately the last time I had seen Fox was near Stephansdom. We speculated for a brief moment if Fox might be involved in the death cause of Raven. I gave two reasons why this was unlikely: Raven was the father of the daughter of Fox, and Raven and Fox had rearranged their past by a comprehensive inventory of the archives of the East German secret service. After an explanation of the way of this inventory, the nephew of Raven was more of less convinced that Fox had no part in the death of Raven.

During our discussion I suggested that Raven – with his many dark pages – had already lived on credit for a long time. The cousin told that due to his continuing successes, Raven had led the service for an additional generation; possibly he could not step down because of the need to continue the concealment of unpleasant activities by continued success. With this, I had to agree: Raven did penance for his actions constantly and he was always on guard for the unveiling of his loyalty and betrayal; maybe his unnatural death was murder and suicide at the same time.

The successor of Raven nodded dubiously after my speculation. In the ordinary world this explanation would suffice, but in the mirror palace inhabited by secret services of many countries the view changed with every move. His life was in danger and probably also my life was in danger. The nephew of Raven discussed several issues about Raven with me.

speigelhal[4]

At the beginning of that evening I took unobtrusively the international train from Vienna to Munich. From there, I travelled to Hamburg, where I continued my journey to Copenhagen from a different railway station.

In Copenhagen I destroyed my British passports that I had received via Raven for unobtrusive travel through Europe. With pain in my heart I terminated the rent of my attic room in the Klosterstræde in the center of Copenhagen; herewith I said symbolically farewell to my two beloved who had died in a short time. I sold my bikes and a week later I hitch-hiked to Malaga in southern Spain to spend the winter in a warmer environment. I changed my appearance and clothing so that I would be less noticed with my dark skin in Malaga and surroundings.

Five years ago I had tried to end my life as an idol by my departure from Amsterdam to Stockholm and later my flight to Copenhagen. With my departure from Copenhagen my second incarnation – as magnet and idol for my surrounding – came finally to an end.

In the beginning of the next spring I hitch-hiked to Granada. There I admired the Alhambra with gardens that reflected the tales from thousand and one night.

alhambra[5]

The life of my first incarnation as Kṛṣṇa in Kenya and my second incarnation as idol in Northern Europe had left its furrows behind in my skin. When I talked, laughed, or looked concerned, these actions left behind there folds in my skin. A flight from my life – that had taken shape in my body – was no longer possible. The ceiling in the Hall of the Abencerrajes showed my for country.

Plafond alhambra[6]

After my visit to the Alhambra I let my beard grow.


[1] See also: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caf%C3%A9_Central

[2] “Gasse” originates from the Old High German word “Gazza” meaning “lane”, “alley”. See also: http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Gasse

Probably “Gasse” is connected with the names of many streets in the Baltic countries that end in “Gatan”, “Gade” or “Gate”. In Sanskrit, the word “gate” is not only a conjugation of the verb with the meaning “going”, but it is also the “locative or place-conjugation” of a noun derived from the verb “to go”.

[3] Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wiener_Kaffeehaus

[4] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/House_of_mirrors

[5] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alhambra

[6] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alhambra

Narrator – A man without a future


Note: this post is a study on trust and betrayal; the people and situations in this post are fictitious.

Upon finishing my part in the activities of Raven in East Berlin, within a year I met him a number of times in different places in Europe. Raven was handing over his post to his successor – a distant cousin, who investigated the history of this British secret service as preparation for his new task. His cousin would like to meet Fox, and I was requested to act as a person in the middle with my striking appearance.

The life of Fox was substantially changed since I met him the last time in the headquarters of the East German secret service just after the fall of the Berlin wall. At that time he acted as management of the service with two other heads of unit since the political leader of this service resigned two days before the fall of the wall. The day after the people of Berlin invaded the main building in January 1990, Fox had submitted his resignation. This resignation was refused whereafter Fox remained on his post until East Germany officially ceased to exist on 3 October 1990 [1].

After the summer holidays in 1990, I met Raven in Amsterdam. He looked grey and sad. After the initial greetings he told the sad news. In January 1990 the wife and daughter of Fox moved to Augsburg in Bavaria in West Germany with help of the inheritance from Bear – the father of the woman of Fox – in order to start a new life. The family of Bear helped herewith. By fate, in the summer of 1990, the wife and daughter of Fox died in a serious road accident near Munich. Raven showed me pictures of a happy reunion with their family in Bavaria. Again I noticed that the daughter of Fox looked exactly like Raven.

Autoongeluk[2]

In the autumn of 1990 Raven sent me a letter from London with the request to leave Pension Arensberg at the Stubenring in Vienna at a certain time on a Saturday afternoon in October 1990 in order to arrange an opportunity for a meeting between Fox and the nephew of Raven. At the specified time I left the Pension and I walked in the direction of the Danube. Soon I recognized Fox who walked across the street along the Austrian Ministry. At the next traffic lights he crossed the road. I walked around the block via the Wiesingerstraβe and the Biberstraβe to the Österreichische Postsparkasse [3] – designed by Otto Wagner – at the Georg Coch-Platz.

Postsparkasse[4]

I admired the façade of this building from 1906 and I saw from the corner of my eyes that I was followed by Fox and another man. I turned around and I walked quietly toward the Eagle on the façade of the former War Ministry of Austria.

Ministerie van oorlog[5]

At the Stubenring I admired the façade of the Postsparkasse again and I saw that the two men still followed me. Thereafter I walked in the direction of the Museum for Art and Industry. At the entrance to Café Prückel, hesitated for a moment so that I could overlook the square. Everything seemed normal: so I went inside and I took a table at the window. The other man followed me and he introduced himself as the cousin of Raven. He asked if there was a seat for him at my table. After 10 minutes Fox entered and he greeted me with amazement on his face. I invited him to join us.

koffiehuis wenen[6]

Fox and the Raven’s cousin started their meeting. The cousin had many questions about the Second World War in which a number of family members and friends of Raven were arrested by the Germans in Netherlands and Belgium at the end of 1943 and in the spring of 1944; many of them did not survive the war. During the meeting, I got the impression that they – unknowingly – were handed over to the Germans on purpose, so that they would provide misleading information during their interrogations. The nephew of Raven wanted to know how Raven had been involved. During the interview Fox – at that time a young German communist – took all responsibility for the sacrifice of the many relatives of Raven in order to let the Germans believe that the invasion would take place at the end of the spring 1944 between at Calais and Ostend. Fox explained how he had passed the information about the droppings of the English secret agents to Bear. Raven’s successor was not completely convinced and would like to get more information about this period. After the meeting I knew almost certain that the real events at that time involved many stark dark pages about Raven.

Fox did not want to give information about his role during the Cold War: he said that everything about that period could be found in the archives of the East German secret service. I saw that he was worried about subpoenas for lawsuits about his role in this secret service; at that time no European country would give him a refugee status. A few years later he was sentenced to prison for his activities during the cold war; on appeal this sentence was overruled.

After an hour the nephew of Raven took farewell upon arranging a follow-up meeting with Fox. Hereinafter I gave my condolence to Fox with the loss of his wife and daughter. During settling the bill Fox asked me to join him to walk to Stephansdom. During this walk he told the background of the origin of his marriage with the daughter of Bear.

Before and during the war his wife was secretly in love with Raven. After the war Fox came to know that he had been the unreachable platonic love of Raven since their study time before the war in Munich. One night just after the war – before Raven would move again to London – Raven told to the daughter of Bear that he could never love her, because he loved men. A few weeks after this night, it turned out the daughter of Bear was in expectation of their daughter. Fox knew since his boyhood that he could not have children due to a small physical defect. After the departure of Raven, Fox  married his wife within a month. As resolute German woman his wife did not wish to have any connection at all with Rave after her choice for Fox: they never met each other again. Every now and then Fox gave Raven a few pictures of his family.

Upon entering the Rotenturmstraβe, Fox told that after the fall of the wall, his wife and daughter had bought a house in Augsburg where he, too, might live when his role in the East German secret service was finished; this hope was vanished. In front of Stephansdom we took farewell. Fox walked slowly away. I looked if he might be followed. When he passed the corner to the Goldschmiedgasse I looked at the entrance of the Dom as a sign that everything was fine.

Stephansdom[7]

This was the last time I saw Fox.


[1] See also: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Germany

[2] This picture is taken in Schleswig-Holstein in Germany according to the vehicle registration plate of the fire truck. Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stra%C3%9Fenverkehrsunfall

[3] See also: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%96sterreichische_Postsparkasse

[4] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%96sterreichische_Postsparkasse

[5] Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kriegsministerium_(Wien)

[6] This photo is of a later date. Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caf%C3%A9_Pr%C3%BCckel

[7] Source image: http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephansdom_(Wenen)

Narrator – A man without a face


Note: this post is a study on trust and betrayal; the people and situations in this post are fictitious [1].

On November 9, 1989 my main contribution to the work of Raven began at 8 pm in the evening. We were in West Germany near Bonn. On the eight hours of news, an item was announced regarding the spokesman for the East German Government who replied to a question by journalists when free travel for East German inhabitants would be possible, after some hesitation with: “Right now”.

Berlijn 1989[2]

This was the signal for Raven to book our flights to West Berlin. That evening we practised my new role for several weeks. Due to my years with my beloved in Sweden and Norway, I could flawlessly speak American with an East Coast accent from the vicinity of Washington.

The next morning Raven in the role of high employee of a German Ministry of Justice and I as high American officer travelled to West Berlin. It was my first time in an airplane. During the flight I looked in amazement at the apparent landscape that was formed by the clouds. This rarefied world reminded me of the fjords in Norway and of the ever repeating clouds during the day trip with my American beloved across the Hardangervidda [3] . Did we live together now in this dream landscape?

Wolken van boven[4]

Upon arriving at the airport Tempelhof in Berlin we moved to the Kaufhaus des Westens to buy  additional clothes for our work in East Berlin.

That night Raven and I crossed the just opened border post to East Berlin together with East Germans who returned home after visiting West Berlin for the first time after more than 28 years. We took two rooms in a hotel near Unter den Linden.

The next morning we visited the headquarters of the East German secret service in Lichtenberg area. Upon arrival we introduced ourselves as representatives of German and U.S. Government agencies who wished to ensure that the archives were not handed over to wrong persons. We were welcomed by three heads of units who were in charge of the service after the resignation of the political leader a few days before. One of the heads of unit looked exactly like the sailor from Rostock that Raven had met some years earlier in Nyhavn in Copenhagen. I understood that this head of unit was Fox.

Vos[5]

After a morning of meeting it was decided that we were allowed to make an inventory of the archives under the supervision of the heads of unit. Raven and Fox would carry out the detailed inventory, and another head and I would supervise as second party. The office of the previous political leader was given to me as temporary workspace.

That afternoon the general overview of the archives in the main building and the outbuildings was made. The next four weeks Raven and Fox prepared the detailed inventory. I suggested a lot of awkward and painful questions about the regional archives: during these weeks I studied the answers.

At the end of the investigation, a fivefold reports was made; one report for each head of unit and a report for Raven and for me. Everything was ready well before Christmas. During the period of Christmas shopping, Raven and I left West Berlin under different names by plane toward Frankfurt.

Later, I suspected that Raven and Fox had adapted the archives as much as possible to their advantage – the pages that could not bear the light were gone or replaced by innocent documents. Fox and Raven had prepared this operation very well.

When in January 1990 the people of Berlin invaded the building of this service, the archives about Raven and Fox were in full order thanks to their loyal cooperation within the limits of the law. During later investigation no one could find any irregularities in their actions during the Cold War.

Berlijn 1990[6]

A year later I met Fox another times in Vienna.


[1] Although the title of this blog corresponds to: Wolf, Markus, Man without a Face – The Autobiography of Communism’s greatest Spymaster. New York: Random House, 1997, there is no link at all between the author – and the content  – of this autobiography and Raven, Fox and the Narrator and their fictional activities. The writer of this blog has no indication and/or knowledge of adjusting, cleaning up and obscuring information from East German archives.

[2] Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berliner_Mauer

[3] See also: http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hardangervidda

[4] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cloud

[5] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_fox

[6] Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ministerium_f%C3%BCr_Staatssicherheit

Narrator – A man without qualities


Note: this post is a study in loyalty and betrayal; the persons and situations in this post are fictitious.

On a rainy afternoon during the second winter in Copenhagen, I met a man who would change the next five years in my life. I only learned the birth name of this man after his death; in my presence he called himself Raven. Suddenly he stood silently beside me. After he had introduced himself, we had diner in a small restaurant near Nyhavn. That night we spent together and that night he slept in my attic room. In the course of the next five years, I have met him with intervals in many places in Europe; usually he stayed an evening and a night, sometimes we were a few days together.

During these years he told me about his past; he was taciturn about his work, but I understood that his profession had to do with trust and betrayal in all shapes and gradations. His work consisted of unnoticingly retrieving confidential information in other countries, and of the dissemination of altered or misleading information. Like me, Raven spoke many languages and dialects fluently and without an accent; also in this way he adapted himself as a chameleon to his environment. He regularly changed name and passport.

Rush Hour by[1]

From our conversations I understood that Raven was born in London near the end of the First World War. Several years before the Second World War he moved first to Heidelberg and later to Munich for his study philosophy and linguistics in Germany. There he met two friends for life – he called them Fox and Bear.

Fox was a fellow student who had grown up in the Rhineland and Bear was the father of their girlfriend. In all circumstances they remained faithful to each other and thus they had betrayed everything and everyone in their environment.

At the beginning of the Second World War Fox and Raven retrieved strategic information in Germany for Russia and England. Bear was a high officer in the German army who prevented Fox and Raven for their doom, because Bear despised the new regime in Germany with all his being, and because he loved his daughter dearly. During the Second World War Raven went off to England several times and he returned in France, Belgium, Netherlands and Germany to disseminate misleading information and to retrieve new secret information with the help of acquaintances and relatives. Hereby he had deliberately endangered the lives of his relatives; some of his family had not survived the war.

At the end of the Second World War Bear was made prisoner by the English. With help of his contacts in England Raven had assured that Bear could soon start soon a new life as a businessman in Germany.

After the war, Fox – with his preference for socialism and communism – decided to start working for the secret service in East Germany; he received a key position within this service.

Raven – with a tendency towards tradition – returned in June 1945 to England to work for a British secret service. First he said goodbye for good to his girlfriend – the daughter of Bear. She married Fox one month later. In February of the next year, a daughter was born from this marriage who looked like Raven, but she had the character of her mother.

Throughout the Cold War – invisible to the outside world – Raven was head of the Eastern European operations. Also in this position, he had endangered the lives of colleagues, friends, acquaintances and relatives; a number of his family did not survive their missions in Eastern Europe.

Berlin_tanks[2]

The emptiness caused by the death and absence of so many loved ones remained anywhere and any time in his life. With this fathomless emptiness and with his constant fear of discovery he did penance for his actions and for the betrayal of everyone and everything in his environment.

The following afternoon, he met an older sailor from Rostock in a bar in the Nyhavn. Later I understood that this sailor was his study friend Fox. Raven asked me to distract the attention from his entry in the bar.

Nyhavn_copenhagen1[3]

This was the beginning of my small contributions to the work of Raven in the area of loyalty and betrayal that lasted until his death five years later. After his death, a distant cousin who had succeeded him in the work for a secret service, asked me for information; within this investigation I was involved in a meeting with Fox.

For Raven, I looked for meeting places and places to sleep that changed sometimes for unclear reasons. I distracted attention when Raven wanted to meet someone unobtrusively, because with my black/blue colour and my exuberant appearance I stood out anywhere. And I served as a beacon to see if a location was observed by opponents.

Smiley[4]

Was Raven also faithful to me? The answer is: as far as he could be within his activities. Looking back, I would never have wanted to miss the friendship and relationship with Raven, and I have had no regrets of my small share in the work of Raven.


[1] Source image: http://otravida.wordpress.com/2010/03/26/march-26th-rush-hour-by-george-segal/ ; a photo of the sculptors “Rush Hour” made by George Segal. See also: Histoire de la Vie privée. Tome 5: De la première Guerre mondiale à nos jours. Red. Ariès, Philippe et al., p. 8

[2] Tanks at Checkpoint Charlie on October 27 during the Berlin Crisis in 1961. Bron afbeelding: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cold_War

[3] Source image: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nyhavn

[4] Source image: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Smiley