The Moroccan Mosaic
Memories from Morocco: Scenes from Marrakech, Fez, and the Atlas Mountains
One thing about shooting film is the prickling fear that all these captured memories will eventually turn out into nothing but blank negatives. However, it might be better to preserve our memories in the imaginary, as an idealised day-dream that translates into the smallest smile, or a lonely smirk on the subway. The odd looks, and the "whats so funny?" line can only lead to a shake of the head, and answered by an "oh, its nothing..." as one realises the often disappointing reality. Thankfully though, there was no need for that after Morocco.
The scenery was stunning, and the people pleasant. Moroccan rugs hung in the glistening North-African sun, while the sound of water seething along the river rocks resonated. Motorcycles on beaten roads were lost into vanishing points. The colours of red clay and juniper green stretched as far as the eye could see.
The Towns of Marrakech and Fez shared another kind of beauty. This time, made of irregular cobbled streets leading up to narrowing alleyways, and the strange harmony from irregularities in the flattened rooftops. The remains of French Colonisation cannot be seen, but is instead heard by street venders and mongers that hound you in the market maze. Just as you might begin to think that you are now lost within the city walls, take the next right into the alleyway that looked just like the other, and you will often find hidden gems of Moroccan architecture, highlighted by colourful mosaics and geometrical patterns.
Though let me not idealise Morocco, for at the time the present failed to exist in me. Yet as I write this, and look back at my photographs, I must’ve been slightly insane for ever wanting to leave.
More Visuals from Morocco Here