After more than 30 years as a DER SPIEGEL correspondent in the US, I am leaving. The country that I thought I knew no longer exists. It was an illusion – and it is being replaced by the unknown.
Suddenly, soupy fog begins oozing over Sunset Boulevard. The windshield frosts over, the temperature plunges. We start shivering.
«Damn,» Darren mutters, and rolls up the window.
Just a moment ago, the warm California sun was blinding us, befitting a street with that name, one that winds in serpentines down to the Pacific. Just a moment ago, we passed its dusty landmarks: Chateau Marmont, the Comedy Store, the billboards for Hollywood fare that nobody watches in the theater anymore, the stars’ mansions, most of whose owners have long since died. Just a moment ago, we could see where the road led beyond the curve. Suddenly, we can barely see anything at all.