Hands tell stories without words. The skin, furrowed by years, moves with a precision created only by endless repetition. The fingers glide along the thread, a ritual passed down for generations. This is craftsmanship in its purest form: not just a craft, but a way of life.
In Marrakech's souks, time exists in a different way. Here there is no rush, no mass production. Every piece is made with attention, every detail shaped by hand. These hands have seen the city change, but the work they do remains the same. The traces of the past are visible in the grooves of the skin, in the rough fingertips, in the calm movements used to weave the thread.
Craft is more than technique; it is connection with tradition, with material, with the people who depend on this ancient art. Maybe this artisan is making something for a tourist, maybe for a neighbour from the medina. But no matter who receives it-the value is in the attention and dedication with which it is made.
The atmosphere is warm and intimate, the colours earthy and soft. This sculpture fits into an interior where authenticity and craftsmanship are valued, a reminder of the beauty of handmade work, of the patience and skill behind each object.
Each photograph is a doorway to another world.
Maybe a world you recognise, maybe one you only discover as soon as you look at it.
Sometimes they are fragments of a memory that never really existed, sometimes a feeling you can't put into words.
In my photography, I search for..
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