In July 2003 Torsten Heydel died. He only reached an age of 16.

During July 2003 my family and I had a holiday in Italy. When we came home, a whole bunch of newspaper was situated on the kitchens table, as it always was. When we came back, our grandpa always had put everything on the kitchens table, what he received for us during the last weeks. And it was the same procedure every time. I was skimming through the latest headlines and was looking for the coloured pictures, to get a view over the last local events I had missed. My mother did as I, but suddenly she said: „For God’s sake, this is Torsten!“

„What Torsten?“ I asked.

She told me about Michi, the boy, that had the same age as my brother did, fourteen. Both of them played soccer just one year ago at Zwickaus soccer club. And Michi is the little brother of Torsten. Was the little brother of Torsten, because when your brother dies, are you still a brother yourself? I don’t know. Anyway, my parents knew Torsten a lot, because of his own soccer playing and he often came to training with his little brother. Actually I went to some of those football matches of my brother, but a boy called Torsten never came my way and I never got to know him.

Some days later I had forgotten about the whole story and nobody ever reminded me of that boy. November came and some day our family usually makes a trip to the cemetery to light some candles. Some German tradition right before Christmas. And suddenly my mother stops in front of one of those graves and says: „For God’s sake, Torsten!“ I know this part, I thought. The grave was covered with flowers and wreaths and a photography of him stood right next to it. A smiling face, that I’ve never seen before. Tears filled my eyes, when I was realising his young age. I mourned for a boy, I never knew. And than I suddenly felt happy in some strange way. Something was sort of electrifying. I’m not religious at all, and I do not believe in supernatural things, but this was a breathtaking feeling, which I never experienced before. Next to the grave there was a letter, written and signed by Marie. And I was realising the handwriting. Marie? I gave her a call and asked, if she wrote this letter. And that was the beginning. That was, how I got to know more about Torsten. Now I was getting to know this boy through the stories of Marie. He had made his driving license for motorcycle this summer and was very proud of the bike, he had got from his parents. After he had left the grammar school, Marie and I attend too, he went to secondary school and got all his certificates reaching an A. It was the day of his last examination and he was meeting his friends after school. They stood on some pavement. Torsten was sitting on his bike backwards to the street. The other boys stood next to him. A female driver came along with her Nissan. She stopped on the red light waiting to turn right. When the traffic light switched she suddenly drove straight ahead. She lost control of her car for just a second and steered towards the boys. During the trial the whole action was described as microsleep. The two friends of Torsten jumped back, they got no harm, but Torsten was sitting on his bike, he had no chance to move. He did not know, that there was a car coming along, because he did not see it. He got caught by the car, leaping him up, and finally got trapped between the car and another traffic light. At Zwickaus hospital he felt into coma. They flew him to Leipzig. There they removed a leg. I think this is one of the worst things doing to somebody who loves to play soccer. 19 days later he died.

At the beginning of December I got to know by chance, that our neighbour was the woman that caused the accident. That was the tip of all, to bring the whole story as much as close to me as it gets. It all began with some death notice in the paper, about somebody out there, not being alive any more. And within a few month all of it was getting so intense. I often had to think about Torsten. When I take a look at our schools yearbook I know everybody, every face, every student, except him.

So I decide to do something special, something very private, to keep the memories alive. And that’s why I want to make a movie, not dealing with Torsten as a person superficially. It will be a movie dealing with the sensitive topic of memories.