When the shepherds have moved on
A few hours outside Marrakech, the Atlas Mountains rise in the distance. Roads narrow, traffic thins, and the sound of the city fades.
One day, we hiked into the mountains, at a moment between seasons. Higher up, the first snow had already settled on the peaks. In summer, these plateaus are shaped by movement: shepherds, flocks, temporary homes filled with activity. Now, they were mostly quiet. Stone huts stood empty.
Far in the distance, one of the last shepherds of the season moved slowly with a small group of sheep. It was easy to imagine how different this place must be a few months earlier, but that remained out of view. What stayed were the traces it left behind.
The shelters the shepherds use in summer were simple and functional. Low walls, rough openings, little protection from the cold once the season turns. Standing inside them, you could see how closely daily life here follows weather and altitude.
Being there in autumn meant accepting that much of the activity had already moved on. What remained was space. Time to notice how quickly a place can empty out, and how much it still holds when it does.
