Bourbon plasticity

Had this been in America, it would have been a summer of triple bypass frappuccinos. But now it is Rügen and all I have is this glass of discounted bourbon filtering the white Wilhelminian Bäder architecture.

Apparently, not even five months were enough to prepare me for the sixty degrees in temperature difference. Exhausted by the heat, my thoughts roam. Suddenly it is summer in East Anglia and I am about to turn 25. Every day the newspapers are filled with stories about the prolonged heat wave. I see myself bicycling on the left, buying chocolate cookies for evening talks with my friend-to-be Ally and, everywhere, there are these seemingly life-altering decisions.

Maybe the bourbon helps smoothing the edges, but looking back, I feel very grateful for what has been since. And I feel much less anxiety about deciding how I want my life to unfold from here on.