A is for the Alhambra, the red palace. It’s a nostalgic salute to Al-Andalus, when Spain was under Moorish rule and religions coexisted peacefully. Can there be a more glorious testimony of a mythical past? Glorious, not because of power or victory, but because of beauty, tolerance and cultural cross-fertilization. At least, this is the way we can dream of it. But the ruler here is the Moon. Everybody congregates under the tender yoke of Diana: Audrey Hepburn sings Moon River, Neil Armstrong gets ready to take off, Beethoven and Debussy hum their respective Moonshine sonatas. Moondog, the blind Viking of 6th Avenue, is the watchman of the moon rockets. The day is Monday, but it’s a stormy one, as T-Bone Walker sings. Redcoats, redskins, red guards, red cards, red books or red roosters give the requisite scarlet touch. Yes, for sure, better red than dead.