It is February, and winter’s chilly grip on the coast of British Columbia seems, after months of indecision, to be complete. Wind howls, naked trees quiver, and a clear, dry, bluishness pervades everything. Snow occasionally falls to the valley floor.
Its cold, so I’d like to invite you to join me on a walk around Mexico City; a city of twenty-two million people, sitting on a lake-bed 2,240 meters above the sea; a city that has seen empires rise and fall, where it is much warmer, if for no other reason than because of the collective heat of all of those bodies.