The city is closing for the night. Stores draw their blinds one by one, and it's dark again, save for the dim infrequent streetlight bending at the neck like a weighted stem. Years have built the city in layers: balustrades filled in with brick, adobe reinforced with steel, and the rounded arches smoothed with white cement. Neighborhoods have changed the burro trails to streets, bare at night? no pedestrians, no cars, no dogs. With daylight, the houses turned galleries and stores turned restaurants open? the Navajos wrapped in wool crowd the Palace of the Governors plaza to sell their handmade blankets, silver rings, and necklaces to travelers who will buy jewelry as they buy everything? another charming history for themselves.