Sometimes a place overwhelms the senses in such a way that when you remember it, you don't just think of bits and pieces, you close your eyes and are transported back in the moment, living it once again. The memories of Morocco go far beyond the photos. The memories are of the smells of the spices in the market, the feel of an old man's weathered skin as he handed me a bag of olives, remembering exactly the perfectly imperfect patterns of the handmade pottery, feeling the anxious chaos of the bustling traffic, the sounds of music wafting in our window from the square below our room. This is how I remember Morocco.
                                                                                                                  - Christy