outside the natives sit in colored raunas with baby llamas. you can pet their heads for 1 sol. the altitude makes ones head buzz. they give you tea to acclimate. i sip wine in the bar and beer at the pizzarias. so much gold, so many stones, the mountains are green and the people dont even speak that much spanish. flat faces and short. up here a place lost in time and invaded by it. breakfast soon. samurai, poverty, cobblestone, moleskin.

words can sometimes be wholly inadequate. everything feels like a rush, from one place to another. the train to machu pichu leaves soon, first class up the mountains with lunch and views. the chickens and llamas ride in back. greet me at the sungate, my goal is to catch a cloud and bring it back. for that i need a jar...