Saturday, March 18, 2017

a market in dakhla

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust when you enter the market— a humble cement structure with a pock-marked roof of corrugated metal. Harsh sunlight filters in through holes, patterning vegetables, meats and plastic goods with spots of brightness. The air inside smells of spices, earth, and flesh. I wanted to photograph the vendors in their various styles of dress; some in the ordinary street clothes that have become so ubiquitous no matter what country you are in, and some elegant in their cerulean-hued Saharan draa. I wanted to photograph the women gliding by in their patterned melhfa, the metres of brightly coloured fabric artfully wrapped around their bodies, as they selected the perfect oranges or teapots. Alas, each person I asked turned me down, and I was not about to snap away without their permission. The best I could get was an overview shot from a distance:

Maybe one day...

Friday, March 17, 2017