27. My Machu Picchu

First light, seeping like spilled water downhill from peak to valley, slowly overrunning ancient walls, saturating carpeted terraces, a dull gray veil settling over everything. It would be hours before I might see the river and the switchback that would bring buses to the entrance of the ruins, hours before the veil lifted, dissolved by the sun. I waited, feeling curiously detached from the scene, once a citadel for royalty, now looking like a miniature stage-set, a prehistoric diorama. I felt like a spy, observing it from light years away, as if I might never experience such a world firsthand. (100)