Chefchaouen, blue before breakfast
Chefchaouen is painted in so many blues that after a day my eyes stopped arguing about it. I walked the medina at dawn, when the only people out were a baker, two cats and a man repainting a doorstep the exact color it already was. The light here stays soft. The mountains see to that.
In the afternoons I sat still, which the town encourages, and bought a Rif blanket I had no room for. For sunset I climbed to the Spanish Mosque on the hill and watched the medina turn from blue to grey to gold. Blue hour was tea on a rooftop, the Rif going dark behind the houses. Dinner was quiet. Most things here are.

№ 83 · 29 June 2026

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№ 88 · 1 July 2026
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