On the road, Marrakech
Marrakech, there in March for a single week of work, and the sights bombard you with each step you take. Sight, sound, smell, each a complex layer that builds into a ocean which rolls over you. Great waves of life, all of it swarming and seen in each street, down every alleyway, on every corner, and only imagined behind so many of those great doors that are closed and carved in patterns. Worlds one can see and worlds outside of the reach of your eyes. Places beyond one's comprehension or understanding, experience or past. It’s like going back in time, where magic is still believed in, where spells are still cast and a long line of Western thinkers, writers and artists resided, down through the decades, drawn like moths to the flame for another world, another realm, another time from the one we know.