Pretty Woman

Late at night, after a 13 hour flight I finally arrived at my hotel, too tired to realize were exactly I was. The only thing I knew was that I’m somewhere in Los Angeles. I woke up at 6 am, wide-awake I stepped onto the balcony. The view was beautiful and the sky clear and blue. The sun was shining and it felt warm.

I went outside to walk around before the city wakes and found myself on Rodeo Drive. Completely deserted at 6.30. No one on the street,  surreal, the ghost town of prosperity.

I turned around and for the first time I saw my hotel and realized: it is the hotel out of Pretty Woman. And this is exactly how I feel right now, like Pretty Woman. Not like a prostitute but in the wrong place. As if everybody could see that I’m just pretending, that I’m actually not belonging here, that I’m European.