Jutting into the sky was a cracked stone column. I blinked in the rain—in fact, there was not just one but several columns in a row, as in a Greek ruin. There was also a large archway, both sides of it intact, and behind it was a dazzlingly large tower. They looked like what the bandeirante had described in 1753. “What is it?” I asked. “Stone city.” “Who built it?” “It is—how do you say?—an illusion.” “That?” I said, pointing to one of the columns. “It was made by nature, by erosion.
