When I opened my eyes, I found myself in an abandoned concert arena. The sky was crimson, the wind whispered softly, and smoke rose from the stage. Just then, Till Lindemann emerged from a towering flame, holding a torch, his familiar serious expression unwavering.
“Who are you?” I asked in astonishment.
“The one called by the night,” he replied in his deep voice. “And you — the traveler seeking answers.”
I hadn’t said anything, yet he seemed to know everything. He reached for my hand, and we stepped into a dark tunnel together. Song lyrics echoed from the walls — in German, yet I understood every word. Time felt frozen.
“Where does one find oneself?” he asked.
“In art, in pain, sometimes in silence,” I answered.
He smiled gently — for the first time, his face softened.
At the end of the tunnel, we stepped onto a massive stage. Thousands watched us in complete silence. Till looked at me and said,