I'm sitting in my brother's kitchen. He's trying not to get killed by a hot wok full of expertly-minced onions that will soon be joined by marinated chicken and rice and eggs. We can hear characters from Gilmore Girls being hysterical but I guess it's just background noise, because the screen is too small and too at the wrong angle and no one's paying attention anyway. We shared some tiramisu I brought from work. It's really windy and I don't want to bike in the wind but I want to get home quickly to my warm shower and maybe my popcorn maker and my book on my couch under a blanket in the glow of one lamp. I think that means I should leave this little internet attic haven, and go forth into the wind toward my bed.
But today is November 9th, which is kind of a big deal in German history. It's called the "Day of Fate," because so many important things happened on that day in different years. Here's a link to my three-years-younger self's explanation of this phenomenon, written during my year in Freiburg. I thought it was pretty crazy and interesting.
Since it was the day the Berlin Wall fell, I might as well link you to the excerpt of the German novel I translated, too, about a Turkish-German 19-year-old who rushes back home to Berlin from school in Istanbul as soon as he learns his city is reunited. Published in the University of Michigan's Canon Translation Review.