You make your way down the dusty street. It’s late afternoon and the
heat of the day is at its height--it will feel so good to finally sit
and rest. Your soul is tired and worn out. You are thirsty as well. The
home you enter smells of fresh bread, perspiration and dye--this last
smell because Chloe, the woman who lives there, deals in cloth and
fabric--she makes robes of purple and sells them in the market. She
greets you at the door and leads you in. Some of your family has already
arrived, so you take your place quickly. You don’t have to wait long.
The leader of the small group carefully unrolls a papyrus sheet and
begins to read out loud . . .
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