Deep in the neighborhoods once on the periphery of Mexico City, amidst the jumble of streets and buildings, one can find a series of symmetrical compositions lining the façades and garages of many of the capital's residences. At first glance, these gates can be understood as humble geometrical tributes scattered throughout the tangle of the metropolis. Another reading interprets the gates as the zenithal layout and geometrical designs commonly found in pre-Columbian ruins. Should we consider these concentric drawings to be the continuation of a cultural heritage or, alternatively, a form of resistance by anonymous blacksmiths against the homogenizing trends of global architecture? Should we accept this color scheme as a provocation against the monochromatic city? Or perhaps these iron compositions are the expression of yet another anonymous figure of this great city, one who decorates spaces he will rarely be able to inhabit.