This is an autographed copy.

Kim MacQuarrie is a writer, a four-time Emmy-winning documentary filmmaker, and an anthropologist. He is the author of four books on Peru and lived in that country for five years. During that time, MacQuarrie lived with a recently-contacted tribe of indigenous Amazonians, called the Yora. It was MacQuarrie's experience filming a nearby group of indigenous people, whose ancestors still remembered their contacts with the Inca Empire, that ultimately led him to investigate and then to write his latest book, "The Last Days of the Incas."

When I was a kid, the anime The Mysterious Cities of Gold kickstarted my fascination with the Inca empire. It took me a while to read this book though, as the thickness is rather intimidating. However, once I started, I enjoyed it very much. It's not an easy read though. Not because of the writing - the author did a wonderful job keeping the book engaging - but because the story is rather sad. A rather uneven match of fast horses vs running legs, limb-cutting steel vs stone and wood. It feels rather a cruel joke of nature that where the Incas lived, there was plenty of gold which the Europeans would murder to get, but no fast domesticated rides and no iron to wield strong weapons to protect themselves.

This book is now going into the Indigenous People Bookbox.

Taken out of the indigenous box

When he looked up again Tas had gone. Rising to join the others, he caught sight of something small and abandoned on the floor. "Tas you forgot your pipe." He picked it up and then saw words carved into the wood he had not seen before. Find the music, find the magic.
"Did you carve this?"
Tas did not turn. "Yes," he said, reluctantly. "I have to leave it."
"But, Tas, why?"
Tas squared his shoulders as though firming some resolve. But still he did not turn. "Because the shepherd said that it could only be used once. Thats why I can't get the pipe to play that song-or any song. I've used the magic." He took a deep breath and went on. "And he said that once I found the magic I had the pass the pipe on." he paused and then he did turn, a scamp's humor in his long brown eyes. "It's going to be a long winter. I'm going to leave it here for someone else to find." "Snowsong" by Nancy Varian Berberick

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