Day 4: The Hanging Streets

La Paz unfolded before me today, a patchwork of hills, rooftops and winding streets. I spent the afternoon riding the Mi Teleférico, high above the city, the cable car swaying gently in the breeze. From up there, the contrast between the chaotic streets below and the serene peaks of the Andes was striking.

The view stretched to the distant mountains on one side, the layers of the city spread unevenly across the hills on the other. The air felt light and cold, a reminder of the altitude. I looked down at the daily hustle and bustle of life - people crossing plazas, cars squeezing through narrow streets, markets teeming with activity - and felt as if I were momentarily floating above it all.

At the top, I paused to take in the horizon. Snow glinted on distant peaks, and the air smelled faintly of eucalyptus. I sketched for a while, the cityscape rising and falling like waves in a sea of brick and concrete.

There's a stillness that comes with perspective, and today was about finding that. A city seen from above feels different, almost dreamlike - just close enough to touch, yet far enough away to feel endless.