Fed up with the mall and suburbia they will return to an imaginary citadel. Him with a coarse beard, and her, tattooed and makeup-less, both—in boots—will retrace the steps of unknown ancestors. By foot and bicycle, they will roam my streets, paint murals, and advertise their devotion to me in English and Spanish. They will practice arts and crafts: out of three walls they’ll make a theater, out of a trailer a restaurant, out of knick-knacks an antique shop. They will drink and smoke green and, for a while, be mesmerized by my ruins. Then, like so many before them, they will depart in search of the next paradise.