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Laurent Schweizer 
Gilles Plante, Translator
Translated from the French by Gilles Plantes
 I stayed for a moment on the pink carpet in front of the hotel. A pink-panther carpet in the cold air of a late afternoon. I sneezed without being able to decide, in spite of my light clothing, to leave the hotel steps.
I hadn´t come to this hotel by chance. I was here on Rita´s advice with a recommendation to the management as a photographer for their new flyer. Although the building had been entirely renovated, no suggestion had been made to take outside snapshots of the facades, but no doubt had they thought of hiring a talented photographer for that. Perhaps there was even an older photograph that they simply wanted to use in the new edition. Frankly speaking, I didn´t care anymore about the reasons for their decision.
Around eight o´clock, a hotel employee had come to pick me up in a service minivan. Together, we had loaded and unloaded my equipment, agreeing that I would store it in one of the garage lock-ups after shooting, in case I would have to return to take additional pictures. A secretary had introduced me very rapidly to the manager before escorting me to the basement, while explaining to me that we ought to start with the swimming pool. Heating had stopped during the night, but it was out of the question to skip the swimming pool where a new bar had been installed during renovations.
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