They are building a vineyard in the city, as if it’s a new idea. Look; don’t touch, little signs in each row say. It’s beautiful, exciting. Passersby express approval. I bite my tongue. There had been a vineyard (an orchard, an urban farm) in the city just recently that you could touch, from which you could eat. There had been a place that was real, that had roots to last, that fed the community. But now it’s gone, forced to move elsewhere. And we get this artificial replica, as if it’s a new idea.