Up close the monumental Great Pyramid at Giza forces us to lose our preconceptions, no matter how lofty they may have been. Primarily, we're not prepared for its extraordinary message for humanity, a product of men (we continually remind ourselves),not nature, though the latter has worked its magic. The ancient elegant form draws us nearer, even though we fight to hold it at a distance where our peripheral vision could absorb its overly-photographed structure in a single frame. The camera can't find it, not truthfully. It's an insult to think so, I say to myself while futilely shuffling to record it on its thirteen-acre base.

It takes time to really see Khufu's Pyramid. While standing perfectly still, wanting to hear exclamations from no one, I gave this proud leviathan my all so that its incomprehensible mass might translate into a conceivable scale. As I stepped closer, the more the imaginary climb became the truth. Each block, now long revealed by the elemental wearing of 4000 years, is approximately one half the height of humans who are camouflaged in the comparison. I would bring the image home with me promising myself to carry the site in my memory, just as I had vowed each time before the Grand Canyon not to forget the power of apparent infinity.