Descending into the Valley of Mexico, circling over the outskirts of the capital, the plane banked gently to the south, skimming above the boulevards below. From a thousand feet up, this city appears as empty as it appears endless, its faint incandescent street lamps disappearing into the distance in every direction. Its legendary problems are intractable, yet the allure of the city remains untarnished. Alive and seething at every turn, Mexico is far more than its geography, more than the sum of its politics, its history and its culture. Mexico is an embrace, a dream where the weight of time is palpable and past and present have become inseparable.