Jeannie and me at ALIF
Bread and eggs at the communal bakery, which smelled like baking and yeast. OH GOODNESS.
This little dude was so pleased with himself.
The view from the roof on a hazy morning (I counted five mosques last night, but they're not all in this shot - also missing are the mountains... more to come)
Walking through the medina, and the back of Jeannie's head.
A door in a madrassa, it was on the medina tour and gorgeous
1 comment:
A formerly anxious young woman to whom anyone's physical illness, and especially her own, was once her undoing is staying in a Morocan hospital with an afflicted friend, is unable to communicate with the staff there except with significant effort, and is suffering the late stages of the illness herself. From that vantage point she repeats vehemently that she loves the whole scene. She is, despite so many of the experiences I'd hoped she could avoid, nevertheless receptive even to a crush.
There was a time, a few months before she was born, that she might have been named Grace. The name never became hers, but the aroma of it is all about her.
Dad (using Mom's computer)
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