From the top of the El Kolla hill, our city is sweet, quiet and fragrant.
From the top of the hill, you and I embraced, getting to know each other.
Our city, from up here, releases magic and tells stories of men who have always lived there.
Once upon a time there was a handsome man named Youssuf who lived locked up in the narrow alleys of Fes el Bali. They called him the master.
Youssuf carved poems on marble slabs as immaculate as a stork’s feathers.
Youssuf was so well known in the neighbourhood that everyone dreamed of owning one of his poems.
For each poem, there would be different words.
It was rumored among the inhabitants of the neighborhood that the master’s verses would give eternal life.
Our city is so beautiful when viewed from the top of the hill.
Our city smells of roses from the top of El Kolla hill.
Youssuf’s fame had gone beyond the high walls of the medina to such an extent that young strangers in the full vigour of life were already ordering their happy poetry.
Our city is the most beautiful in the world viewed from the top of the hill.
Our city shines with lights and colours from the top of the El Kolla hill.
Time passed and Youssuf was growing old; it was already rumored that the old master would soon lose his memory and his happy poems would fly with him.
Something inexplicable happened that day. The verses on old Mahmoud’s tombstone had already been engraved long ago.
What happened is still a mystery today, but it is certain that in a short time, Youssuf lost his fame and was soon forgotten.
The poet of all things died alone and sad, without a white marble headstone and no poem to accompany him.
From that day, the alleys of Fez el Bali lost the teacher and his happy poems that migrated forever like the storks on the hill.
From the top of the hill, our city is sweet and silent.
From the hill of El Kolla, you and I embraced, observing life.
And we fly like storks.
“Our city, observed from up here, releases magic and tells stories of people who have always lived there.”
Backstage
This story was born when I was observing the city of Fez from the top of the El Kolla hill. Before me, there was a mother who was hugging her baby. All three of us were looking towards the same spot.
The medina of Fez is a world populated by curious characters who seem to have always been there. Walking through the narrow alleys of the bazaar, you come across the all too original arts and crafts and dealers such as the dromedary meat seller who displays the head of the poor animal outside his shop staring at passers-by, or the mortuary slab engraver he presents a selection of tombstones on which the suras of the Koran are engraved, not to mention the famous leather dyers who immerse themselves in putrid and poisonous waters to dye rough skins. These characters stimulate our imagination and bring us back to a distant dimension.
Massimo Bicciato, photographer and traveller
