Visiting a quiet city reminiscent of Eastern Europe. I drive my partner to a small, private neighborhood built around a flat, park-like open space. An older resident, a member of the post-communist bourgeoisie, shows me that you can fly up in the center and view the neighborhood from above. I see what can be described as concrete cubicles many stories tall, containing entire mansions the size of a city block.
I zoom in on the center of the street where stands a very good replica of the Parthenon, exactly as archaeologists found it, with all the ancient debris dutifully and artfully replicated in loving detail. They have at least one performer who re-enacts as a pre-socratic philosopher in daily performances. We drive out of the neighborhood, pulling away from the elegant, curving, grass-lined drive.