One of my first memories of Berlin goes like this: As a teenager, I went to the divided city with my mother. We also wanted to visit the Pergamon Altar in East Berlin. But the GDR border guards refused me entry because we had only stuck scotch tape on the rear sheet of my child ID card, which had been torn off. That’s how it was when – Warning, irony! – the authorities in Berlin were still working reliably.

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