Jemaa el Fna, Marrakech
It seems like every path in Marrakech will lead you back to its main square, Jemaa el Fna. During the night it draws so many people there to eat, and to gather together in circles of shadowy figures who play music or tell tales, who hold court to the eyes and minds of the Moroccans who have gathered there for centuries. It is ever more like a dream-world once the sun sets over it, like an opium cloud that envelopes you and sets you drifting into another realm entirely. Sometimes the question flickers over one if it is real or not, or perhaps imagined, or maybe even transmitted from someone else’s dream who lays alone in a room I have never seen. It whispers out to you as sound waves and vibrations that you can breathe in and exhale, as the smoke of the pipe drifts upwards into the ether, and where it finally disappears without a trace.