On the sidewalk were long rows of stands set one next to the other as far as he could see. The pavement had no rest from the shuffle of their feet. They even took up every bit of room in the middle of the street as they wove around the pushcarts. The venders gestured and lifted their wares for the people to see. The neighborhood awakens.
People come out on the street.
A parade of hunched shoulders, hard faces, battered felts, baggy pants, ragged coats. This is Jerusalem. The journey to Africa is only one block. This is the World street, the Mother street. Mother Halsted is wise.