[High Atlas, Marroco. December 2005]
[Camera: Nikon F65, analog!!]
The first time that I trod on Morocco, the Riff was a giant wave that was coming with his forests up to the feet of the Atlas. The branches of the cedars were almost conquered by the weight of the snow, the cold was squeezing tight the muscles while the chimneys were leaving their white sighs escaped. And there the High Átlas was, with his summits covered by the snow where the sunbeams were playing and the frozen rivers as if they were skating rinks. That kingdom of ice was not what I imagined that it would be the desert.
