Palm Sprrrings

Every time I come to Palm Springs, it is too hot and too quiet. (That’s exactly the reason why people come here, and me too.) Every time I try to figure out, who lives here? Who and what is the “real” palm springs persona, besides a retired American in shorts? We tried to find it. We saw a mum, a dad and a daughter that had exactly the same heavy body and asked for more sugar in their coffee, we saw a good looking soldier, just back from Afghanistan (he told us) sitting next to a Christina Aguilera person, we saw perfectly dressed guys in “drag”, preparing for the AIDS walk in the city, white make up, inspired by italian opera, we saw ladies with fur (!), we saw ladies yelling openly in a cell phone (like Argentinians do it), we saw several members from the cast of “Will and Grace”, we saw a Hollywood, or in that case a Palm Springs Star for a plastic surgeon/TV Host on the pavement, with other stars for other plastic surgeons, we saw a lot of Polo Shirts in berry (blue and strawberry). All this is surrounded by the desert. By this Star Wars tapestry. By this ungrateful heat, which makes you feel like this place does not really exist. And neither do you. So you could ask yourself, if Palm Springs is a place for nihilists. For people who officially don’t believe in life and existence, but run around naked in the desert, screaming, which seems to be possible at 5am in the morning, who knows. (Some of them must have done it.) For people, who live in the quietest houses on earth, so quiet, that you want to explode. But then, in the evenings, you forget about the nihilists, when a soft wind is blowing a Sinatra song towards you and talks to you like nobody did before.