Life imitating art

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.

A journey

His journey would take him through the Vitilapin crags, the jumbled rocky mountain range separating his land from the Kingdom In The Clouds.  A difficult journey through unknown and unknowable territory, ever changing as the volcanic fires below churned new peaks from the earth, throwing them up to have the sky cloak them in ice, creating and diverting rivers on a whim. 

Gazing at the skyline trying to make out the shapes, the mountains seemed both near and far, the distant peaks seeming pure and unattainable, clogged with snow like a thick white emulsion.   He was not at all sure that some of the peaks would not sublime into clouds during the eyeblink when he wasn't watching.  The lower crags seemed dank, gritty, dirty in comparison, a study in undifferentiated greys, browns and blacks.