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Swarving downtown Kenosha, I feel that I have entered some off kilter parallel land. Passing neighbourhoods that look normal, I entered an area of new housing condos that circled their garages, tasteful gallery type of shops – mostly empty. In fact everything seemed deserted. There must have been people living there as cars were parked behind the condos, but no one was on the street only three people were heading to the Kenosha museum. An empty rea trolley – tracks, pantograph, carriages brought in from Philadelphia Toronto and other cities - kept circling the area.

In anticipation of the boon in people and disposable income, the old downtown which seems to be a vacant building theme park - full blocks of façades plastered with building unfit for habitation interspersed with antique malls which could be confused with places where those who were there simply abandoned their belongings– three cafés complete with fair trade organic shade grown coffee, decorated with old bulk bean bags. The cafés outnumbered the people in the area by one. Even the Subway sandwiches was unpopulated. Luckily one was seated just outside one talking to himself and every once in a while taking off his shoe and scratching his foot. The other person paced and drooled on the opposite side of the street. His beard saved the pavement from the dribble. He kept digging in his pocket apparently looking for that bit of change for that double skim lattè.