Back in September, Pedro and I took advantage of a long weekend for a roadtrip into the Atlas Mountains. The green valleys of the imposing Atlas were dotted with Berber villages made of stone and mud, the same red as the surrounding rocks, which almost served to camouflage the humble, rectangular buildings. The air was fresh, and the valleys echoed with the calls of choughs. Light faded quickly, as the sun sank behind the mountains in the late afternoon, casting a faint orange glow before we were all immersed in blues and violets.
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