wohnzimmer bilder landschaften
we all remember the moments and events that profoundly influenced our lives and are therefor part of who we have become. we are all the sum of past experiences and the lessons we have learned. maybe it was even little things,books, images, sounds… personally i was shaped by many of those, but when i think back, there are a few that always keep popping up in my mind. in the 90ties, during the glory days of the dakar rally, there was this car add that sew a seed of adventure deep inside of me. there were lyrics that transported my inner self into another world,
singing away the midnighthours in the family living room. and there was always my mom’s advice:shoes never fit at once; they need some time to break in. take that time, and you may neverwant to take them off again. so, here i am. in morocco. i admit, a country with less epic proportions than i had dreamed, or as described in the favourite songs of my youth,
but still perfect soil for this new pair of boots. and i love almost every part of it. the colours, the changing landscapes, thebustling cities that determine the pulse of this same-same but different world. the views of dry earth, the greenest of oases, the snow on the atlas peaks. i ride. stop. climb the rocks. i sit and stare. gaze into the valley.
i let the wind sandblast my skin. i sweep over perfect and less perfect roads. curve after curve, bump after bump, trail after trail. from the tanneries of fes to the beaches oflegzira,â from the melting pot and bustling cities of the north to the quietness of merzougadunes,â from the divine blue of chefchaouen, to the curves of the dades,â and a little further ait ben haddou. it does feel like another world. the more i stop and look around the more i’m amazed. followed by the clicking sound of the camerashutter.
i shoot some more, wondering which pictures to post. or do i keep just these memories to myself? and store them combined with the sounds: thehowl of the wind,â the children cheering carefree, the bleating of the goats, which seems tohave mastered the art of climbing trees. the road becomes a trail, the trail… a road. adobe houses, built on the ruins of previous generations. spices and food that tickle your pallet. i want to get lost in the red of marrakech,the piste of flint, the high peaks i can almost reach. i talk to locals, always smiling, although living in challenging conditions.
they sell souvenirs, art, whatever they can, they are warm, welcoming and outside the cities mostly true and sincere. i smile, and secretly hope years from nowthey still remember me, the passer-by. and i ride on. and stop. and gaze. and click. and walk. and imagine how my life would be if i would just ride on and on,
until i have seen every inch of it. morocco, you make me dream again. humbled to have shared this with you.