Far up above me, a thousand feet or
so, set in a great cavern in the face of the cliff, I saw a little
city of stone asleep. It was still as sculpture -- and something
like that. It all hung together, seemed to have a kind of composition:
pale little houses of stone nestling close to one another, perched
on top of each other, with flat roofs, narrow windows, straight
walls, and in the middle of the group, a round tower.
In sunlight it was the colour
of winter oak leaves. A fringe of cedars grew along the edge
of the cavern, like a garden. They were the only living things.
Such silence and stillness and repose -- immortal repose. That
village sat looking down into the canyon with the calmness of
eternity . . .
I had come upon the city
of some extinct civilization, hidden away in this inaccessible
mesa for centuries, preserved in the dry air and almost perpetual
sunlight like a fly in amber, guarded by the cliffs and the river
and the desert.