That famous airport scene at the end of Casablanca is none other than LAX, back in the quieter day, with an outline of a minaret-y-looking structure over the shot. Didn’t you think it really was in Morocco? Okay, maybe that was just me.
You know how when Dorothy lands in Oz, the movie goes from black and white to full color? That’s how it was for me—even though I landed at LAX with literally a hundred bucks in my pocket. Those more awful moments of life sound so romantic in retrospect, sometimes.
Life suddenly…..bloomed—in full technicolor. Hollywood! Palm trees thrill me. The air sparkles here; I’ve never seen anything like it anywhere else, and by now I’ve been a lot of places. Those Art Deco buildings on Wilshire Boulevard hearkening back to the Golden Age of Hollywood make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The ’fifties-style diners with the waitresses, seemingly still from that era, feel like home. The Hollywood sign lifts my spirits even on the downest of days.
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