32. My Machu Picchu
There was only one way to get me out. The man pulled me to standing and moving slowly, shoulder to the cliff wall, he piggybacked me off the ledge. A stretcher was waiting. As I was carried downhill, tourists and red-helmeted guards looked on. Was my guard among them? Most likely I saw him and he saw me. But I never saw the Royal Palace, Sun Temple or Main Square. Never sat on their blazing emerald green carpet. Never touched the walls whose stones fit too perfectly for a knife blade to slide between. I never really saw Machu Picchu. (100)
Love the ending tone. It made a smooth connection to JT and this live version of his beautiful composition - where I loved seeing summer Steve Gadd doing his in-the-pocket thing. As for the illustration - you got those stretcher bearers’ facial profiles, the curious guards in green and the random tourists all just right.
Perhaps not seen. Viscerally experienced. Remembered in your body!