On a few acres of land girded by wrought iron fences, oppressed settlers built their own corner of heaven. They cut stones and erected towers to scratch the toes of the god they set in the sky. They planted patches of lawn, they cast statues of bronze. The set a great organ in the Tabernacle, concerts are played there every evening. You will notice them in the crowd. They wear clean suits with matching ties, flower print dresses, skirts below the knee and buttoned-up shirts. They have earned the right to believe in what they want, whatever you may think of it, and they won't try to show you that they are the ones who are right. This is their home. Turn your back on this green patch.

Right in front of it, a river bubbles up. Follow it as it runs along terraces and across leaping fountains, where people like to come and sit down and have a smoothie or some iced coffee. Further down, the stream grows thin becomes a singing brook among the rocks, then nothing. The map only shows what lies behind you. Onwards is a dusty avenue where indifferent cars drive by.

You will have to walk under the sun along an endless street. Turn at the crossroads, and walk onwards on the cracked sidewalk. Thirst will fall upon you. You will be gasping for breath in the heat of airconditioners' exhaust vents. You will need some courage.

If you find the way, you will see a brick square, the Squatters Pub. There's served more than water, but it is served to everyone. You will join the real people. Those who voted for Trump, and the others. Those who come here every night, or just on Fridays. Those who carry a concealed gun under their jackets. Those who watch baseball on TV. Those who love women, those who love men, those who aren't too sure yet. Those who eat steak, and those who don't. Those who watch teleshopping. Those who have Netflix at home, and those who don't have the internet. Those who go to Church every Sunday, those who go to support groups, those who shoot cans on the backyard fence to chill out.

You will have your Baptism and your Communion. You will rinse your throat in American Wheat Hefeweizen, you will operate the transfiguration of chimichanga and chocolate chunk brownie ice cream. Then, you will take your first steps among the men of this land, and you will be ready to continue your journey.