Death’s Head asked me what I was going to do yesterday with my free time. “Oh, just gonna look for Albrecht Haushofer’s grave,” I chirped merrily.
No judgment if you don’t know remember Albrecht Haushofer (first mentioned on the blog here). He was imprisoned in the local Moabit jail for hatching a plot to assassinate Hitler.
While imprisoned, he wrote a whole bunch of poems, and not the funny limerick kind.
He was released in April of 1945, only to be shot by the SS a few blocks from the jail and then left in the street. His brother later found his body, along with the poetry.
I found his grave in a pretty little unkempt corner of the cemetery at the Johanniskirche on Alt-Moabit.
It was pleasant to wander around contemplatively in the sunshine, and the day was made more meaningful by finding a name I recognized among the tombstones. But I also felt a little plaintive, because, you know, death.
