Change of Perspective

Sometimes you get stuck in a rut. (Or I, to be more precise).
Miss the forest for the trees.
After an exhibition on "Harry Graf Kessler - Flaneur through Modern Era" we needed a coffee. Harry was such a restless Dandy, knowing so many  people - Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker, Henry van der Velde, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Nietzsche, to name just a few. He connected people. Diaries of 10.000 pages - a man full of seemingly contradictions, political and cultural,
So we sat in front of Starbucks with full view of the Brandenburger Tor (between the columns tarpaulins - behind them the fan park for the European Football Championship) and the sun was shining like mad. No shade, no parasols.
But I wanted a coffee (so much that I even accepted Starbucks').
And so I changed perspective.
I had an umbrella in my handbag - and used it the Japanese way: saved!
I'd never expected that at this stage of my life I would often have to say: "...for the first time in my life!" Surprise! (though the whole last year sometimes teeth-gnashingly, wiping away a tear).
Voluntarily or not: after doing it I suddenly feel - vulnerable in a pleasant way, alive.
Side benefit: I see solutions. So I say:
"If you brexit, my friends - I'll change perspective. You leave - so I will come. In August."
Looking forward! Westward Ho!