A good morning.

It’s Sunday, and the morning is just as cold as all other mornings. I got up at eight o’clock, went for a walk in the calm and quiet medina as people just started to wake up. Some people were sweeping off last nights garbage from the ground, others stretched out and yawned before starting to make their shops ready for another busy day.

I walked to the small fishing harbour and sat down on the ground, inhaling deep breaths of the salt water air.
A fisherman was cleaning out his boat, another angled from land.

After a few minutes a man came up and stood beside me. He threw big pieces of bread into the sea, no point in that I thought for myself, there are no fishes in this dark green water.
But I was wrong. Not even one minute later a fish shoal with at least a hundred fishes revealed it self and the fishes started eating of the bread. They were all slim, about a decimetre long and shiny dark grey. As the man threw more bread into the ocean the fishes all dove far down, scared from the sudden splash and movement from above.

I sat there, watching the fishes, for twenty minutes. Then the man was out of bread, and seagulls started circling above the surface. If they wanted the bread of fishes, I don’t know. They sang their seagull-song and the fishes disappeared. The man shook his bread-bag and the last crumbles fell into the water as he left the harbour.

It’s a Sunday morning in Rabat, Morocco. Tomorrow I will get my visa for Mauritania and I can leave this city for Agadir. That’s where my bag is, I was only supposed to be here for about 24 hours. When I get back I will have spent six days away from Agadir. Planning has never been my thing, really. I can’t wait to get back. Rabat is nice, but Agadir is much nicer.


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