May 19, 1912 - Machu Picchu

     The Incan ruins behind me seem familiar though I have never seen them before. It is the way they are constructed, so similar to the buildings in London before I was turned. Stones piled on stones, making walls out of rubble. It is beautiful to most but not for me.

     And while the others meander around the ancient city, I stare out over the mountains. Although it is dark, my eyes can make out the clouds that wrap around the summits as clearly as any human could on their best day. As I look out over the spectacular site of the ridges and peaks of the mountains, I am reminded of the thousands of humans that had to die so that I might see it. And yes, I do think their sacrifice was worth it.