My own crisis only reached its peak on October 13, 1989. My friend Jacob, whose joints had not been dislocated and who nevertheless had wrestled, remarked that morning why I was still afraid of the already-dead who believed they could still rule. Soon I had to, and wanted to, do things on my own and in the way I deemed appropriate: with the firm resolve never again to let my science be dominated by political interests and currents. It was Paul K. Feyerabend who helped me to breathe and work freely again. Many thanks, dear P.F.