They knew I was right behind, with a camera pointing at them. I felt their discomfort, and it played to my hesitation. I’m not good at photographing people, I know it. This lack of confidence compounded the growing urge to replace the lens cap, protect it from that frequent spray of salt-laden water, and let the camera hang across my body, as it often does. One picture and I let the camera at ease.
These are the moments in which experiences with a place begin, or even a fraction of a place. Sometimes they’re brief, like those fleeting moments when eyes meet and interact, then turn away. And sometimes they’re long-drawn affairs that come with equal parts of euphoria and longing.
That very moment, a large wave broke against these walls that have for centuries contained the surging ocean and protected this legendary city. Another sea-foamy spray hits my face, and Casablanca says to me, ‘Welcome to Morocco!’
I smile. I love these moments.
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