O, weary traveler of this wretched yet wondrous City, prithee lend me thine ears! For thou standest before none other than Don Quixote, sworn knight of justice, scourge of villainy, and unwavering champion of chivalry! With my steadfast lance, ‘Sueño Imposible,’ and the indomitable fire of righteousness burning within mine heart, I dost ride forth upon the grandest of quests—to purge the land of evildoers, to shield the meek from the cruel, and to prove that even in this age of despair, the spirit of heroism hath not yet perished! Lo! Many hath called me a fool, a dreamer lost in bygone fables—but dost the night not mock the coming dawn? Fear not, noble soul, for so long as I yet draw breath, I shall not waver! Justice shall be my steed, valor my banner, and naught—not cynicism, nor peril, nor the wretched sneers of knaves—shall stay mine hand! Now, tell me, wayfarer—dost thou, too, dare to dream the impossible?