Gypsy Witch

"You're in the right hands, I'm a good witch." I sit in the back of a warmly lit bar on a big wooden bench with a new friend.  It's Halloween.  A bowl of candy is perched on the end of the bar and a small pumpkin glows on a table.

He's had a bad day so we share a pitcher of Malbec and I do my best to make it a better one.  I tell him something good has to come out of it.  That I'd read a study that day that proved we don't think about the experience as a whole, we are significantly biased by how the experience ends.  At the end of the day, he tells me I made it a good one.

Saturday night I dashed across town to meet another new friend and realized my wallet, with my passport inside, was missing.  After a suspicious bump in on the U-bahn I knew immediately that it was a done deal.



I cancelled my cards, borrowed $20, reported the lost passport and decided it was another excuse to be creative and be grateful for what I have.  If there is anything I've learnt this year it's that I can only control so many things, but my attitude is one of them.  I may be broke, but I'm anything but broken.

I ended the week by meeting up with two of my lovely vagabonds from my workaway experience at the moulin who happened to be in Berlin.  We drank wine in their friend's kitchen and talked about life, identity, and the magic of the moulin, even when we were exhausted and shovelling gravel in the rain.  Those two weeks were challenging but life changing.

Seeing my friends was a nice end to the week.  So as a whole, I guess it was a good one.  I have no more identification, a few euros to my name, but have great friends, old and new, and am a little closer to knowing myself.  A good witch with a gypsy heart.