I remember the “love-hate” feeling Morocco planted in me. And it will be there as long as I go back to get different ones.
For now I can only think about how exposed I felt with no one else around me to share spoken words with, the words that makes you able to understand another person.
But I also remember the families that, without those words, invited me to be part of their family for a short time. The families that care less about to be understood and more about love, care and hospitality.
Words are not everything, in many cases, but in others they are the most important thing!