The much-maligned wall of silence

Since the middle of january i have been following the so called sandstraben process. Active, in which I have since sab four times in the courtroom. I have been working in gastronomy for almost 30 years, so you could say that I belong to the "gastronomic scene" to. Of course, i don’t always have my service money bag around my neck to identify myself as a member of this scene. This seems to guarantee me the freedom for the time being to out myself as belonging to the scene. If, on the other hand, I were to carry a skateboard under my arm, it apparently became clear very quickly where I belonged: behind the wall of silence.
When I walk through the sandy streets in july, no matter what day of the week it is, I usually meet a lot of people I know. People talk, sometimes for a few words, sometimes they order a wine and stay a little longer. And everyone has his favorite corners, from which you know who you meet where. Gladly also daily. Will heiben, to remember a week later who I met when and what I discussed with him is a challenge. It becomes more difficult when I still have three bottles in my head.
If in the time something aubergewohnliches happen, I remember that. My attention is directed there and i store what i see. Whether that was the day I tried the rose with X, whether Y was added to it, becomes more difficult.
But if it’s a day when I’ve been on shift, or my purse has been stolen, or I’ve been having relationship problems, it could be that I’m not so interested in the usual things, because I’m busy with myself.

And maybe you should ask other questions? "571 days ago today, did you walk to point X or to point Y??"; "What lap did you run 613 days ago today, a lap that you have been running since approx. 312 times again; they sometimes go this way and sometimes that way, so how was that exactly 613 days ago, please?"What did you talk about in those 7 seconds??"
I admire the calmness with which they try to answer such questions. But probably I confuse now rest with fear. When the power over a blood-white leadership certificate lies in the hands of a man at the upcoming job application in two/three years, one can sometimes stutter.

Since then, I have often wondered what I actually did the night of 29. To 30. July 2017. The first time I saw the video I thought: "I hope I’m not walking through the picture now." I don’t know it anymore. If I had seen an ambulance standing there, I probably still didn’t know where I had come from, where I was going, and with whom I had spent the evening.

False testimony is not a trivial offense. But one can also be driven to it, by asking the wrong questions.

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