It’s the last day of November and it’s eight months since we came to LA believing we would be here for four.
Tomorrow is the first day of December and my outfit says it’s October.
I dream about showing LA to my family, about being chased through abandoned hospitals and hugging our Gothenburg neighbors greeting us back home as if we were close friends. They said they had missed us.
The creepy girl with the shorts and braces catches up with me at the end of the hallway and when I realize the double doors go both ways and I can't keep them closed I prepare to freak out, but is saved by David who wakes me up.
And we’re in LA. And it’s the last day of November.
And the sun is shining like it’s July in Sweden.