It’s finally cold in Berlin, and in my typical stubbornness towards the weather, I’ve been spending a lot of time outside. I actually don’t mind the cold all that much, provided that I’ve sufficiently armed myself against it with long underwear, a warm hat, woolen socks, etc. When I’m not prepared for it, I actually hate cold weather. But when I don’t have to worry that halfway into a walk I will find certain parts of my body numb or perhaps blackened with frostbite, I can really dig a brisk walk in the cold air.

The one thing that’s throwing me a bit, though, is the darkness. With sunset at around 4pm, and a constant cover of dark clouds blocking out the few hours of daylight, it’s dark basically all the time now in Berlin.

Well actually at this exact moment it’s bright and sunny out, but due to certain circumstances, I am not really able to go outside (or open the drapes). So I can see a little patch of sunlight coming in from underneath the heavy curtain, but I do not dare risk leaving this darkened sanctuary.

No, I have not deluded myself into thinking I’ve been recently bitten by a vampire, but Jenn has a migraine, and my sense of duty to her wellbeing mandates that I stay here and look after her. Which is mainly consisting of me writing emails and trying not to make a noise much louder than an ant farting.

The thing is, I want very much to take care of Jenn, I worry about her and I wish I could do something to make her pain subside. But the problem of this one-room apartment is that I can’t really be there for her without my presence becoming a liability to her comfort.

Perhaps I could turn the TV around and sit a few feet from it, watching the BBC with headphones on. Perhaps I could teach myself to mime, or take up tai chi. Or maybe I’ll just continue to sit here on the computer, reassuring myself that I am helping Jenn, even though it feels at the moment like I am completely powerless to do anything of the sort.