Dear Berlin, I know I often tell you how much I love you and hate you while I struggle in your embrace and fight to survive and we tango back and forth but today you are driving me wild again.

I was here at this time last year and I remember wishing that once, just once, in my last three weeks I would see the sun again. It wasn't very cold but it was dark. Grey. Every single day. There was no sunrise and no sunset. Nothing but me fumbling through the darkness. Now, after a pleasantly mild and sunny November, the temperatures have dropped and I'm wrapped, shivering in cashmere and rabbit fur but the sun! The glorious sun is out! It's a special kind of light reserved for European winter days. A sun that never gets higher than just visible over the low buildings but it spreads and seeps into everything and reflects coldly off of the snow and ice like 10 million little pink butterflies clouding my eyes (a welcome change from the 10 million little red devils that usually cloud my judgment).