I’d imagined that my last week in Berlin would bring forth plenty of stuff to blog about. While it’s true that it’s been a big, eventful week so far, I find myself – just 48 hours away from being on an aeroplane – with nothing to say. I can’t think of anything.
It’s the home stretch now. Everything is painted, every room is virtually empty, and everything that I need is in a suitcase. The only things left to do involve a mop and a duster. None of that matters, though.
Last night it hit me quite hard that I’m leaving Billy behind. And it was something ridiculous that triggered it. We were walking around the neighbourhood while my clothes were in a machine at the launderette, and when we walked past the exit of a supermarket’s underground car park, BIlly pulled in that direction. I pulled him back and said, “Billy, nein, das ist die ausfahrt.” And that was it. The stiff upper lip melted, and it’s stayed pretty wobbly ever since then. A couple of days ago I said I had no idea what it would be like saying goodbye to him, but I know now. It’s going to be horrible. Really really horrible.