“Traveling—it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.”

– Ibn Battuta, the greatest traveler of the Islamic world

This narrative about Marrakesh, “the pearl of the South”, turns into a fairy tale, a lovely love story about two young people living in the magical city with an exotic soul. As proper journeys, as well as true love, never end, this story of Marrakesh has no end, but remains forever within its magnificent walls.

Marrakesh, a city of eastern beauty, is the oldest monarchy of the Muslim world. With history at its every step, visitors are left breathless by the combination of traditional and modern, opiated by the smell of oriental spices, vanilla, cinnamon and teas. Covered by the veil of mysticism, it seizes you with life joy of the Moroccan people, and amazes by the magnificent eastern architecture which sprouted in the middle of a hot desert.

Medieval Arab historians and geographers called Morocco “Maghreb al-Aqsa”, which means the westernmost country. The population structure of the inhabitant is diverse. I have visited many countries all over the world and I have not met more hospitable people than Moroccans. As a former capital of Morocco, Marrakesh is known as one of the most beautiful cities in the world, a legendary place that, regardless of the large number of tourists, lives as it once did, tucked away in its past.

The heart of Marrakesh is the Jemaa el-Fnaa square. I remained fascinated there by the multitude of people circulating on a huge bazaar offering authentic products to visitors. The pungent scent of fresh oranges spreads everywhere and I have to admit that it is there that I have tasted the best orange juice ever. The noise of people, the sound of oriental music, and wonderful aromas all together give a special note to this gigantic bazaar overlooked by Kutubi, a mosque with a 70m high minaret.

Behind the old town, covered with palms and olive trees and decorated with flowers lie two stunning gardens, Menara and Agdal. All of these places are breathtaking and give my photos a special note.

Labyrinthal shadowy passages where shadows play on faces give them a magical look. Each photo resounds with centuries old history that lives on through legends and customs. Through my work this “red city” becomes a city of love. The hand-woven lace carried by the couple in the photographs arouses the sense of touch, the smell of spices kindles the sense of smell, the echo of melody from the mosque and the noise of the townsman contributes the sound, and all this in conjunction with the visual, I would say, emerges as a true eastern harmony.