I will remember Markus as a kind and learned man, a lover of books, reading, knowledge and conversation. During his illness, I often witnessed the long telephone conversations between him and Beatrice. What struck me was how little his illness seemed to define those exchanges. There was no need for consolation; instead, there was curiosity, discussion, humor and the genuine pleasure of exchanging ideas.
Sometimes, from across the room, I could hear Markus laugh — that warm, genuine chuckle of someone who had just been delighted or amused by something said. I loved hearing it. These were not simply conversations between a father and his daughter, but between two people who respected and enjoyed one another’s minds — person to person, intellectual to intellectual.
That warmth, curiosity and unmistakable chuckle are among the ways I will remember him.