"I'm not twenty anymore, not even thirty, I'm older than that. People of this age get married, buy houses, have babies, run companies and replace their third car. I don't have any of those things. I have a laptop, one valuable piece of art, a phone, a credit card, student loan debt, an espresso pot, and three suitcases full of clothes. 

…and a crumpled plane ticket to Los Angeles. What have I gotten myself into? The land of freakazoids? Gluten intolerance? Mudslides? Rattlesnakes...both literally and figuratively speaking? Traffic jams? Definitely the smell of dog piss and golden sunsets. Surely there are plenty of dreams and empty promises left hanging in the air. 

I put on my sneakers and sweat in the scorching sun to the first hiking trail. "Loool-laaaa-kaaas!" screams a homeless man with swollen legs in the background. You know, just your average Tuesday. The phone in my back pocket buzzes, there is situation at the East Coast office. I guess that's it for the hike. Or at least the idea of it. Another completely unrealistic and silly day. I wonder what is waiting for me on my way to the office? Another goat roaming the streets in Hollywood or a Tibetan monk asking to be airlifted into a national park? At least the city isn't on fire and the ground hasn't been shaking under my feet for a while. Oh, Los Angeles, you gorgeous freaky ass! You keep me on my toes. You vibrate so strongly in each of my cells and remind me that I am alive."


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