Last winter was so long, cold and fucking unbearable that I started dreading the next as soon as it ended. I’m not sure when it ended. It feels like yesterday.
Summer came and went, and though there were days it was warm – not many – I couldn’t enjoy them. I kept thinking back to the fucking winter, knowing the days were numbered until the next one came.
Berlin should carry a health warning – Winters are dangerous for your health; Winters while living can harm your soul; Winters while dead are no escape; Winters can harm your baby’s babies and all their grandchildren too; Winters kill; Winters are shit, go home; Winters are so bloody godawful they don’t bear thinking about.
But of course there’s no warning. All the fools moving here will soon learn. Berlin takes pride in suffering. The city exists on Schadenfreude and winter is its playground.
Winters are insufferable here. Last year I was here for the whole damn thing. In previous years I escaped to South America, Central America, even Ireland is tropical in comparison.
Last night I had to turn the heating on. I couldn’t bear the cold anymore. I was inside, shaking. Already! The last day of September. Christ. It will be May before I can turn it off again, and that thermometer will plunge to frightening depths before then.
I should have left when I had the chance. So stupid. Now I’m stuck, a rabbit caught in the onrush of doom, knowing even if I do survive, the next one is around the corner.