@makate

They say the streets of Marrakech swallow time whole, that you wander for hours and realize you’ve been going in circles but somehow still moving forward. I didn’t believe it until I got here — now I can’t tell if I’m lost or exactly where I’m supposed to be. The air smells like spice and exhaust and something else I can’t name. People yell in Arabic and French and maybe even English but I don’t stop to listen. I just keep walking. Something tells me if I slow down I’ll miss the point. Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe the whole thing is made up. But I swear, something changed the second I stepped off the plane. Like the city was waiting. Like I’ve been here before.

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