The road twisted and turned up the mountain, winding through what seemed to be quite ancient woodland, and emerged on to the grasslands above. The crumbling hulk of the monument loomed above us, the last wisps of cloud just drifting away.
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‘Valparaíso, how absurd you are…you haven't combed your hair, you've never had time to get dressed, life has always surprised you.’
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‘This place is going to be in a book you know. But you’ve come too early; it won’t be out for a month.’
