One February while staying in the old city of Jerusalem, our window cracked, I awoke to this Islamic call to prayer. I love the sound of the early morning call to prayer, unpolluted by street noises (so early) and carried along almost as if on a breath of promise.
The call lasted almost a minute and I was frozen, caught in its stillness, before I roused myself to capture it on a small digital recorder that I carried.
It continued for almost 5 more minutes as I stood at the window, bumps rising from my skin.
This was the purest, sweetest voice I had ever heard.
When it was over, I kept the recorder on--I was frozen again. As I stepped away from the window and looked around the room of the hostel, every person had roused themselves to listen. My recorder tells me it was 4:58 am. I took the accompanying photograph from that very window on a different morning, looking into the heart of the holy city.
To this day, that call remains the most beautiful sound I have ever heard produced by a human being.
It was more than just the morning of a new day.