It is early morning, and the haunting cry of the muezzin drifts in the air above the city of Fez, Morocco. Abdul and his grandfather are walking to work-past souk after souk of carpet sellers and weavers, leatherworkers and metalsmiths, then out through the ancient gate. Spreading a carpet on the ground, they wait for a crowd to gather. And then, at least, Grandfather begins: “This happened, or maybe it did not…”
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