On the surface, Talborjt is a nice place to spend holiday evenings. But if you move your eyes away from multilingual waiters and tourists and Moroccan travellers rushing by, tragedy is sleeping on the benches, and dishonesty is entering and leaving the hotels.
One evening in December I saw this young man, sitting curled and bitter in a dark spot just metres away from one of the restaurants. Knowing how difficult life can be for young Moroccan these days, I felt that he embraced the dark side of Moroccan life. But he was all alone, and far away from any miracle in life.
The walk from restaurant to restaurant, and start playing a short piece of music in front of tables of European tourists. At the finish, a small tip is expected. I recorded their hit of December 1998.
The following day, while I was eating my open-air breakfast, a man in his 40's passed. He was making his living from selling cigarettes one by one. Just like the young man from the evening before, I had no problem seeing him as a successful person in any European country.
The two images really shock me up, and for a couple of minutes I felt the tears coming close to my eyes.