It’s early. 6:30 A.M. or thereabouts. I don’t know when I fell asleep last night. Only that it was early, shortly after I lay down and to the lullaby of a distant lion announcing his presence and territory to other lions in the area. A roar followed by a series of 4 or 5 short roar-like grunts. I know! One doesn’t think of a lion’s roar as being particularly conducive to restful sleep, and if it was right outside the tent, it wouldn’t be. But! When it’s some distance away. It’s a different story. The air is pleasantly cool and it’s very quiet. The only sounds are the soft ones of breeze rustled leaves and grass, cooing doves, and perhaps the chirping of a cricket or two. No honking horns or wailing sirens. An atmosphere of calm and peace. And why not? Before the honking horns and wailing sirens. Before the towns and villages. Before the cities and towers of concrete and steel. Wasn’t this? Or someplace like it? The ancestral cradle from which sprang humankind?