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+**can**
+
+I am a member of a secret society. It has its own gospel in the form of a still evolving story, it is not yet written, 
+that starts with Grandmother Czuckay exclaiming that she would not set foot upon MS Wilhelm Gustloff, since one can not walk on water, 
+it has no boards. As the official history explains the ship was sunk by the Russians on january 30th 1945. And so they took the train to hannover
+where young Holger Schüring, that's his Dutch name, would grow up and found his love of music.
+
+He is of the same generation as the fictional composer Hermann Simon in Edgar Reitz' Heimat. Born out of the shadow of WWII, thoroughly educated on
+Bachisch counterpoints, too smart for his teachers, discovering new ways in 
+
+--
+
+Irmin Schmidt en Stockhausen 
+
+Stockhausen was godlike. He challenged Irmin when he said: Tomorrow we will dedicate three hours to questions. But I only accep intelligent questions. 
+Next day, Irmin asked him: Do you think you will get really intelligent questions posed about the work if you act so that everybody thinks,
+'I won't ask him, it's not intelligent enough'?
+Stockhausen was the last of the gods, traditional composers, writing on paper, divorced from the performance of music.
+Irmin's answer was: The intellectual God is Dead. Who are you on that mountain, higher that all of us? Just get down and be normal like any of us. 
+So is that my secret society's gospel? No, it's not about that per sé, but we will not stand for any authority.