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Rated: E · Short Story · Environment · #998250
This describes the souks in Marakesh. Which is where i went on holiday.
Senses

All the vibrant colours come together as one, bright reds, blues, yellows. The men in their long robes haggling with the shop owners. The motorbikes pass, not even caring if they nearly knock somebody over. They zoom around, making so much noise. They start up their engines and whizz by. The smell of the fumes as they come out from the back of the motorbikes is hard to miss. It floats in and out of your mouth, as the different tastes come together. The amazing array of things on offer. Shoes, food, wooden carvings. So many different items all in the same place.
The noisy market sellers shouting and people haggling for the best price. The normal chitter-chatter of everyday people going around their daily business. The feel as your soft hands brush over the hard leather whilst trying to find those perfect babouches. Walking onwards, floaty material passes your body. The smell of the aromatic spices drift around as people grill things in the street. You can almost taste the herbs and spices. Cinnamon, tarragon, basil. All of them making mouths water. You can hear the crunches and crackles of people eating. It’s all around, no matter where you go.
As you walk on, the heat hits you like a wall. The smell of the heat and humidity and of the sweat as people run around in a rush, chases you down the street. Walking around hot and clammy air enters and exits your mouth. There is no shade from it. You can’t escape.
The fumes in the air from the food and pollution rise around you and you can feel it going past you but no matter where you are you can’t get away. You can feel the cold harsh metal against your fingertips as you browse the market stalls in search of the perfect bargain. You are getting fed up by now but you just can’t stop.
Then, after walking through the maze and thinking you’ll never get out, there it is. The busy, bustling square which separates the old town from the new. All the wonderful stalls and attractions come together now. The fruit and veg stall and the spectacular sight of the snake charmers. The snakes hiss as they sway to the rhythm of the music. Entertainers fill the square with their colourful costumes, coming up to you at the most inconvenient times. Even though your busy, you still feel obliged to join in. All the heat and humidity seems to waft away from you, although its still there you don’t feel it because you are so enthralled in the whole way of life.
You don’t know what to do next. With the sun going down, it’s getting late and you don’t know how to get out. You ask the locals but they don’t seem so friendly as it gets later. The stalls are closing up. All the array of colours being locked up for another day. Shadows follow you wherever you go. Every step you take they get darker. The usual group of people hanging around changes and is replaced with the new, younger people, out for a good time. There aren’t any tourists around anymore. It’s quieter, more peaceful. What are you going to do?
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/998250-Senses