Vienna Diary, July 24th

It might easily have never happened. Whatever impulse it is that seems to either grant us free will or creates the illusion might never have twitched within me. But twitch it did, and so I entered the Anker — the ubiquitous chain bakery of Austria — and bought myself a Punschkrapfen. I don’t think I even knew it was a Punschkrapfen until I read the label set before the bright pink cube of fondant covered cake beneath the perspex counter. I bought one and took it at onto the street and ate it at once, like an apple. I did not anticipate how sweet, dense, and heavy it would be. It would have been impossible to anticipate. I felt like I was doing something indecent in public. Had I not been in Europe, then undoubtedly I would have been.