breezing out the of the city as it grinds into work mode, the buildings gradually dwindled in size and occurrence and gave way to open fields – at first green, but slowly melting into the monotonous colour of dust that covers most of morocco. donkeys began replacing cars, and the road adjusted in width accordingly, with cream clad mercedes taxis blindly overtaking – trusting their fate to god with the phrase, “inshallah,” as they accelerate.

welcomed by a man with a warm face and a thick berber accent, blessed with a pot of hot, sweet mint tea to warm us as the day disintegrated into the cold night. exploring the walkways around the waterfall in the quiet of the dark after a full belly of vegetable tagine, the stars sang brightly in the remoteness of the place. a one-eyed cat joining us with glee, prancing between our legs and throwing itself at poles in playfulness and to perhaps practice its sense of depth that the loss of an eye robbed him of.

the morning welcomed us with a chill and a troupe of monkeys, seemingly unperturbed by our presence. the sun rose to grateful skin and the thundering of the falls began to mingle with movements in the small town surrounding it. a salesman turned forceful in an introduction to the moroccan bartering system, his eyes gleaming at the colour of our skin; a teapot bought. hot, sticky crêpes for breakfast, hunger making us wave the state of the kitchen, hands and old plastic bag it was served to us in.

such beauty in this oasis.

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