Cuzco, Peru

Faint whispers of Inca processions still ooze from between the minute creases that lock the stone ashlars in place. Neither conquest nor earthquake could shake the stolid foundations of such diligent builders. Perching on top with blatantly dominant intentions are the colonial institutions that successfully manipulated the indigenous culture into complacent puppets. This combination creates a perplexing architectural dichotomy, materializing the shameful cultural tragedy that coincided with the Conquest.

Despite it´s brutish past, Cuzco now manages it´s many facets responsibly and beautifully, creating a quaint community of diversity. While contemplating it, as always, through reckless delineation in embellished proportions, I´m continually impressed by the narrow sliver of sky that these narrow streets afford. For hours at a time, I wander with my neck craned upward, stumbling on the inconsistent street surface, bumping into the occasional llama.

Each street outdoes the last by contorting perspective into a bent reality where geometry is crumpled into a far more intricate complexity. The labyrinth of slotted streets winds incomprehensibly through a topographic maze where the illusive cheese is always beyond reach.

Nowhere are there parallel lines and seldom are there straight planes. Everything bubbles and ripples like a pot of water on the brink of boiling. At times, the pot boils over with as much force as a geyser, scalding everyone within proximity. These are the moments of ultimate intrigue, those unique to the orchestrated mess of this city. Cuzco is captivating, physically and mentally. The riddle will never be solved, but the process of discovery is worth the pursuit.