1983. The screaiming height of the nuclear scare. I remember it all to well. A very clear and present danger, a daily threat we lived under, some of us aware, most people probably not really. I saw The Day After in a Copenhagen cinema at what I believe was its European premiere, also exactly 35 years ago one of these days. Going home, my young impressionable self was even more spooked than usual: The thing was real, might happen any time, would presumably be worse than film, worse than imaginable.

To this day, I actually shiver when I read of Able Archer and realize how closely the shit flew past the fan the very same week.