I wasn’t too much saddened by his words. Quite the contrary, his words somehow had enlightened me in a strange way: Yes, I couldn’t decide or do anything without power, because I had no right and no freedom. I became sick of being a wage slave. Fuck the authority! Whatever, I had to quit again once and for all. As deeply as I realized, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.
This realization strengthened my fi sts and broadened my mind when each time I noticed father’s seat in his guardroom had been changed from the soft to the hard, from the hard to the harder, and from the bad to the worse, from the worse to the worst. Or was it the recycled chairs simply had collapsed one after another as crap that seemed to keep him from sleep?