The plane finally arrives over Mexico City at sunset, mountain ridges are poking up from the misty clouds, blue zigzags within milky blue, and above the roseate gold sun touches the world.
A glinting in the distance, I am not sure if it is a lake or another plane on a different trajectory.
The edge of the sky glows behind the darker mountains, pinkish red contrasts the indigo ridges, and how does the red segue through orange and gold to the brightest lightest blue without a hint of green in between?
As the sun sets, the hills become velvety.
The stripes of coloured clouds in the sky are reflected on the silvery wing of the plane as it banks and turns, grazing the edges of the bowl of mountains.
We leave the country a couple of days later as politics and crime intrude, but the sublime beauty of the arrival in this country will stay with me despite the hastened departure.
You have a way with description.
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