On a rooftop in Fez, Morocco (Photo: Emily O'Dell)
Tender words we spoke to one another
are sealed in the secret vaults of heaven.
One day, like rain, they will fall to earth
and grow green all over the world.
— Rumi
While strolling through the medieval medina of Fez two weeks ago, I saw this towering green structure emerge in the distance from one of the busiest alleys of the bazaar. As I stepped closer to search for a door to climb up inside it, an old Moroccan man offered a better plan.
“Here, follow me,” he said, leading me to a staircase on the other side of the crowded road.
Climbing up a narrow, dusty staircase, we passed by several middle-aged men in tank tops looming (quite literally) on the second floor–since in Morocco looms are manned by the men. Stepping onto the roof, we were finally face-to-face with the shimmer of the sun, gracing those brilliant green mosaics–just as twilight was beginning to dawn…
