India. Varanasi. It was early in the morning, sometime around 6 AM when we were in the labyrinth of the narrow streets next to a crematorium for the poor people. I can’t describe the smell on those streets even at the relatively “fresh” time of the day. This whole scenery stroke me deeply. On the right, you can see the pile of traditional orange plastic covers for corpses that were taken off before cremation. On the back ground you see a man searching through the fabrics which were used for the same purpose. I bet he is going to reuse those for resale. It was difficult to see a small girl in the midst of that without feeling sympathetic, however it’s a reality for most of Indians.