So apparently I live in Munich.

The story of how I got here is kind of a long one — although, I must say, quite juicy — so I’ll tell you that one another time, but let’s just say it involves a man, some letters, a hurricane, Wallace Stegner’s Crossing to Safety, and impeccable timing. While said man is at work writing a Latin dictionary (this is not a joke), I spend my days looking at this view and occasionally writing a sentence or two.

We’re in the midst of a deep freeze here in Europe, which makes me think of winters in Montreal. I don’t go anywhere without tights under my jeans and two pairs of socks on my feet. And without eating, like, three of four Ikea cookies. Thankfully, the scene out the apartment window is pretty spectacular so I can get a little chubby in peace.

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