Another world, another day, another time. The bright sun cast its long dark shadows along streets filled with carts and animals, never once falling on automobile, trolley or McDonald's litter in the gutter.

Another world, another day, another time. Yet the sounds of people were there, even more evident without the sound of motor cars. The shouting of a young man, the call of an elderly woman, the bawling of a young child. But in the darkness of an entryway to a home on that busy street we see a door open, the top corner catching the sun's light as the door swings open into the fresh morning, smelling of wet dirt and dung.

An old but vibrant-looking man, dressed humbly, holds the door open as he asks questions of a diminutive lad pulling on trousers and pushing on cap with one hand as he clut…