Arriving back in Marrakech, I felt like I had truly been to outer space and back; I felt like I had seen landscapes that could not exist on our planet. I felt like I had stepped both back and out of time and had seen and briefly experienced a different way of living, of one without time and without fear.
Finally, I was there. Marrakesh. I remember having all kinds of expectations of how things would be, how they’d turn out, but nothing could compare to what actually happened. It was overwhelming, coming from the quiet caravan life into probably one of the world’s busiest cities.
Visiting Morrocco is like slipping into the ancient parchment of an ancient religious text… and the beauty of an ancient text is that the pages don’t change, the paper might curl and pictures might fade, but the fundamental plot remains.
A couple of weeks ago I came back from Morocco with just under two thousand photos. It was my first time in Africa, and my first time using a digital camera in a while. Not restricted to the 36 shots of a roll of film I typically limit myself to, I probably got carried away.