By Ray Furlong BBC Berlin correspondent

A petition was handed to the German government this week asking for the former East German parliament building to be saved from demolition. Ray Furlong looks at the Palace of the Republic, which has been dividing opinion among Berliners.

The fate of the building has raised questions about German identity

It's hard to overlook the Palace of the Republic: a squat, brown building on a vast expanse of empty concrete in the heart of Berlin.

It sits like an angry proletarian opposite the fake Italian Renaissance of the city's cathedral - which holds the bones of the Hohenzollern dynasty in its crypts.

This is a building, both in its style and its location that was designed to celebrate a state of workers and farmers. But that state has long faded into history, and the palace too is now on its death bed.

Graffiti disfigures its once-proud exterior and weeds have sprouted in the walls. Inside, the noise of the city gives way to a ghostly silence.

The heart of the building, its shops, theatre, gallery and bars, has been removed. So too has the chamber of East Germany's rubberstamp parliament.

Only steel pylons and concrete walls remain. The fake-marble stairs are crumbling away. A puddle of stagnant water has formed in the main foyer.

'Special magic'

But the building is still solid, and still produces powerful emotions. This week, 10,000 signatures were delivered to parliament calling for the palace to be saved.

Among those 10,000 people was Harald Schoepe, a 55-year-old engineer from Dresden who knew and loved the building in communist times.

We met in a rather grotty cafe just off Karl Marx Avenue, part of what was once East Berlin.

"It had a special magic," he said, adding for my benefit: "It was as special as Buckingham Palace. But it was open for everyone."

Mr Schoepe said he had enjoyed going there with his children. He recalled entering the foyer, illuminated by a thousand ball-shaped lamps hanging from the ceiling, and feeling "transformed".

The palace is a stark contrast to the nearby cathedral

Time for another comparison: it was, he said, like entering a church. "The vast vistas drew you in, you went up the stairs, and every step was an epiphany," he said.

For most East Berliners it was less of a religious experience. But it was still a place to meet and hang out - filled with life - and that's why so many of them want to save it.

But Mr Schoepe pointed to another reason that finds a wider echo in the city.

He says the decision to close the building shortly after German reunification, when asbestos was found inside it, was political.

Question of identity

It's a conspiracy theory that chimes with a more general feeling of disillusion in eastern Germany with what followed unification - not only mass unemployment, but also th