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In a world of grasshopperish myopia, planting trees has long been a symbol of antlike forethought.

Birth, life, death, sex, conflict, commerce, politics and everything in between are literally on the screen as the camera zooms out from a massive, pyramid-shaped world teeming with tiny, antlike people.

I noticed wildflowers that seemed to burst from solid rock, and weird antlike insects covered with thick furry coats.

Within half an hour, an antlike line of figures stretched from the ground to the summit, moving methodically up the red rock for the last time.

The next I knew, I was looking down at the view I had seen on the postcards Lucinda used to send us that left even Chucha speechless—buildings so tall that I couldn’t quite believe they were real, and patches of green like scatter rugs, and tiny antlike people whom I could blot out just by putting my hand on the small square of the window.