I awake on my first morning in Delhi, bright-eyed, eager to see it all. My step is filled with a certain springiness as I saunter out the Imperial Hotel and onto the streets for a pre-dawn stroll. The nearest thing to peace in downtown Delhi takes place at this hour, in the dim light of awakening dawn, when even the most ardent debauchers are still at roost. And not just in the slums. I ponder the eerie quiet as I step over a few of the city's many homeless who have made their nest this night in the fashionable hotel district. Bodies lay like flotsam in doorways, under poster-plastered trees, and in gutters. Somehow it all seems rather natural.

My first nasal sensation is of the musty smell of decay blended with that of sewage. It is a smell that I will become semi-accustomed to, not by choice. There is no escaping it in India. The smell will follow me everywhere I go, infiltrating my skin, nose, and personal belongings. It will even follow me home and visit for awhile. A special memory!

I took more people pictures in India than anywhere I'd ever been. There are simply no stereotypes here. Everyone looks made up to a westerner, like Holloween, and worthy of a photo. This mosque was my first visit to the world of Islam and I wanted to make sure I behaved in an appropriate way. As it turned out Muslims were pretty much like everyone else. They didn't really seem to care what I was doing as they got on with their daily lives.