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Night in the Medina in Marrakech, and the stall holders, all women, are still there, waiting in vain for one last customer… while waiting, they never rest, knitting more of their wooly hats |
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In a cafe near the Saadian tombs, East meets West |
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Mysterious bundles of coloured twine abound all around Morrocan cities,especially in Marrakech. to begin with, one is lost when inquiring about. People would rather not tell you. Some young men were using coloured threads to weave this, very silent and serious. Maybe it is a part of Shchoor ceremony. |
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This is one of the mysterious weavers of coloured twine balls, in action in small but perfect garden in the Medina. He refused to tell me what he was doing – a form of practical magic called Schur, which is designed to dispel the evil spirits or Jinns. All around town, young men are weaving their balls of twine. |
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Another picture taken by Benny Bronstein and me on film years ago. This is the Jebalia beach, near Jaffa. |
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Tim always stops moving in pubs during lunchtime. Who are these people? Do they know each other? Why are they so silent? Will they be there tomorrow? |
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Sitting at Finsbury Park station, on a sunny freezing day, with people passing by and looking into the camera lens, is estrange experience, but one I would not miss – it also reminds me of a Kafka short story “Running past Us”. |
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In a park in the centre of Luchon, in the Haute Garron, a lunchtime concert of a world-famous pianist is held for the edification of the public at the Roman Baths. A brother and sister were left by their cycling parents in the pail, seemingly trapped for the duration of the concert. But they liked it. |
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The new starers leading to the old granary at Kings Cross, where the Central St Martin’s School of Art has moved to. The place is unreal, belongs to a company and is totally privatised, with the public suffered to enter. For the time being, it seems. The water nearby (of the Grand Union Canal) are a saving grace. |
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I watched this elderly couple gently as they watched others, more mobile than themselves. The pigeons where waiting for them to move, so they could finish the cakes they left. |
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It is quite difficult to photograph quickly with the 6*7 heavy film camera, but sometimes you have to try – passing by open doorways, peeking into a scene excluding you, where people are in the middle of things, with intense discussion, and probably deep disagreement in evidence. You will pass, and they shall continue to pursue a mysterious agenda. |
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