You write, you have the ability to reach other people with music. When did you first feel that?
Soon. Very soon. Already at 16 or something. I carried my guitar with me wherever I went. I often also had a rucksack and a sleeping bag with me, because I knew I’d be sleeping somewhere tonight, and it wasn’t always clear whether there was a bed there. And there were always situations where I noticed: People like it when I play the guitar. And I sang to it every now and then. I was often in the circles of the higher daughters and sons, who were on a different level than me, but still said: That’s great.
What did you sing?
Dylan! And Donovan. Blowing In The Wind and Catch The Wind. You might catch a lot of hearts with that!
Have there been times when you lost faith in this ability?
In the book I tried to pin down the point where this blind trust in one’s own infallibility was suddenly over. It was the loss of innocence – even though I was innocent. (An acquaintance dies in a boating accident in Greece in 1986. Ambros was at the wheel, a trial has proven his innocence.) I lay in the water and I was getting colder and colder, and the thought was: Now it’s over. Nothing will be the same now. Then I looked for the man and only found him dead.
Did you blame yourself?
Yes, that I turned around once more and took the man on board because that’s what he asked for. And he almost cried out with happiness – and died shortly followingwards, with a big smile. He still had it on his face when I got him out of the water.
Do you believe in fate?In that case I had to believe in it. One spends a whole morning asking me to take him with me in the motorboat – and then he dies. At the time I thought to myself: Maybe I was young too long.
