In a Marrakesh alley, there's a shop full of colors that don't exist anywhere else. The old man inside won't sell them to you—not until you learn to see.
Catalina llegó a Marrakech un martes de marzo. La luz era diferente allí: dorada, cálida, casi sólida. Llevaba una maleta pequeña y un bolso con pinceles, lápices y un cuaderno.
Opening lines