MACHU PICCHU

When they let you into the site of Machu Picchu proper, at 6am, there are more steps to negotiate. Finally you reach a terrace. The air is amazingly clean. There's mist all around. Visibility is minimal.

Then, for a moment, the clouds clear. Facing you are three peaks. Which do, indeed, peek through the atmosphere. Winking. Hinting at everything which is out there of which you are still unaware. All there is to be learnt. Still to be seen. Still to be savoured.

The sun shimmies through a gap. The day is born. The world is ready to begin all over again.

I lived this once. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to have lived it, to live it, every day.

Perhaps it would become banal. Or perhaps you would feel, every morning, as though Inti was reminding you what a work of art the world and all it contains within it is. Not what a work of art it might be. But what a work of art it is. It unarguably is.

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