There’s something magical about being up before the crowd, particularly here in India. Life kicks off at a more sober pace before the dogs, horns and people take to the streets. The rooftops are empty, the streets washed clean and a hazy sun struggles to raise its head above yesterday’s output.
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And as the sun rises over the great fort of Jaiselmer the early morning sounds reflect how things must have been. The sound of quiet. Just the cooing of a pigeon and the sound of the first street cart being pushed into place ready for the onslaught. It takes about an hour; by 8am she’s awake. The haze clears (just a little), the motors start, the horns blow (who the **** are you honking at dude, the street is empty) and so it begins again.