The turning intestines of the souk in Tetouan Morocco foreshadow more than twisted tales or fresh produce or spices or olives — rather the souk is the precursor to the mall without the legal leases, rent increases and sales targets.  The merchandise is the coloured stage and the individual stands the mosaic mortared by merchants, customers and visitors.  Between the crowded walkways a cart drags product for another stand.  Weaving the feet and stands the motorcycle roars a right of way.  In a museum built to attract visitors is an early (sixteenth century) wood carving from the kasbah.  The colours natural dyes.

The panel a tribute in Islamic style.  The ordinary affairs of the souk are bagged.  Spices, olives, vegetables, greens, fish and fowel.  The smells and sounds of bartering reverberate between the sinuses and ears.  Dangling as lamb before the slaughter the corn promises goodness.  The yellow frames the stand as the vendor extracts triple value for each kernel.  These are special corn cobs that rival anything in America!

At every turn the souk opens up to a traditional Jewish merchant or a craftsperson or a souvenir stand or a blank wall framed for protest and conquest.

In this UNESCO site (which may hint at tourist potential) there is rich evidence of Arab and Spanish style merging into a love for the ever coupled Andalusian style.  The musicians play tribute to tradition and gather alms in baseball caps that suppress their roots.  In the souk everything has turned the corner from culture to survival.