Sometimes I watch tourists taking pictures in my own city. I try to look up with them. Very often it is something I have never paid much attention to or have never even seen before.
I wonder if one can be oblivious to the beauty of Moroccan tiles.
A gentleman at the market in Fez was selling souvenirs, a great volume of colourful tiles, some of them imitations of the 14th-century Moroccan heritage. Fez, Morocco, is home to the oldest university in the world, University of al-Qarawiyyin. A lovely gentleman insisted one of the tiles had exactly the same design.
During a rather lengthy conversation, I have learned that porcelain tiles are denser than ceramic ones. After bargaining like a real Moroccan Berber, not my own observation, I might have bought a few for myself and my friend. Nothing wrong with having something pretty. And I can justify it. It’s so small.
I love the idea behind these colourful tiles. The endless possibilities they present. Just like letters turned into words and sentences. They do not do much on their own, but once put in a particular order can create magic.