We'd arranged to meet in Mitte and I couldn't think of anywhere I cared to go, so we decided to have a picnic instead. The scent of the lindens and jasmine in the evening air made me feel like I'd stuck my head into a bouquet. The light as I cycled through Tiergarten left me breathless.
We met outside C/O, then wheeled our cycles to the Spree. As we talked, blue-lit boats with names like Heiterkeit and Klaus-Peter floated by, full of revellers.
We set up our picnic on a bench: Vinho verde, French cheeses and crisp bread, apricots. A field mouse crept over, first timidly, then with increasing boldness, to nibble dropped crumbs of chèvre. Later, a golden retriever waggled her eyebrows until we consented to share a slice of sheep's cheese.
The sky went from gold to indigo to pitch-black, then it was time to go. There were rose petals on the train floor as the S-Bahn rattled south on my way home.