I live in Mexico now and I grow lemons. I own a beautiful orchard with thousands of trees in long rigid formations. They do not look like real trees but like the trees a five year old would draw with crayons: thin straight trunk with a roughly drawn, though quite accurate, circle of leaves. Five or six bright yellow lemons were dotted on each tree.
I feel deep contentment in my orchard but the moment is a fleeting sensation for I suddenly have to get to Machu Picchu.
I move with the speed of dreams, the earth zipping under my feet. There is also nothing between Mexico and my destination other than vast plains of dusty earth littered with smooth round boulders which I leap over and sped round in a disturbingly camp fashion all the while singing the theme tune to the 80s cartoon: The Mysterious Cities of Gold.
Children of the Sun,
See your time,
Has just be-gun,
Searching for your way,
Over and over, the song repeats. I am no longer singing. It is the soundtrack to my feet.. I reach Machu Picchu and stand proudly at the top of the mountain at that famous vantage point that looks out over the abandoned ruins that you see in everyone’s photographs. just as the:
Someday we will find
The Cities of Gold…
bit of the song plays. I leap off the mountain and my arms turned to wings.
I don’t become the Golden Condor of the cartoon but I still fly up and away from the mountain into the sunset. The sky is flat, just like the cartoon and the song repeats, over and over and it is amazing.