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This photo rolls up a long story, as I am 68 and he is 73. When I was a little boy he used to bully me, beat me up, never let me win at any game and take it out on me when something didn’t work out for him. For ex. when there was a short circuit on our electrical train, he would say, what are you staring at me and sometimes beat me (he is so jealous of me). I learned to fear him but nevertheless always showed solidarity with him against our parents. At that time, I was a dreamy boy who simulated illness in order to stay at home instead of going to school. So the people would think that I was a feeble thing, an off the world dreamer. Later, I would avoid him as he used to tease me on many occasions when he had a public. But I must say that I succeeded in stopping him and in building up a better relationship. We play golf together when he visits me once a year in our house in France and we have a lot of fun, even if we live in different worlds – he a business man in Germany, me an artist in Switzerland. The photo: When I was in my native town, we went together with a cousin visiting some family houses. My brother saw a tricycle in a courtyard and sat down on it. My cousin took out her camera. He looked so small that I made a big jump on the rear of the tricycle, grabbing at my brother’s collar, like a raptor or a vampire, with a sardonic laughter. When my cousin sent me the photo, I realized that I had frightened my poor brother and that it was a sort of revenge: I felt that I had gained strength, that I was the dominator… For me, it was just a joke, but I learned something about me, a myth that my German family believed in, mainly because nobody asked me who I were, what I thought and what I desired. And above all, what I really felt.
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