Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Before the call to prayer marked sundown, she walked the medina and found moments of in-between--children's feet as they scampered home from school or collected the day's bread from the community oven, a donkey's empty panniers as it stood unmoving and silent before the next impossible load, a shop window wearing a sudden flash of color as a woman moved past.

    She took pictures as though looking sideways at faraway stars.

    As she made her way through the twisty pedestrian streets, she came upon moments of almost--
    a crate of oranges placed on a board in a small opening between buildings, sprays of fruit hooked above;
    six pale baskets nesting one within the other against a deep ochre wall;
    a mint merchant cross-legged on a blanket at the edge of the street, near the zellig fountain, sorting piles of fragrant mint pillowed on his lap;
    four half-mannekins in jeans hanging against a wall above a folded stepladder.

    When the call to prayer rumbled its deep opening notes, she headed back home, her camera full of maybe.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.