Twenty years ago I was sitting in front of the TV in my living room in Stockholm, crying floods. I am almost crying now when I think about it. I grew up knowing that the Communist regime was invincible. At sixteen, I as prepared to die for freedom, to burn myself on Red Square, to do anything to overthrow the hateful dictatorship. My mother told me not to be a fool. Nothing would change if I sacrificed my life. The dictatorship was there for ever. Not even my grandchildren would live to see it fall.
And there I was, twenty years ago today, watching, together with the rest of the world, the Wall being pulled down. I had never imagined I would live to see it. But there it was, happening right in front of my eyes. I had never before known what it meant to cry of joy. Those who remember, just look back and contemplate. Those who were too young, try to grasp.
For my grandchildren it is all ancient history.
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