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We wound our way through the mountains, trees and other vehicles zipping past us, while increasingly far below us, the world made a slow rotation. We were heading to Ifrane, and the sky seemed to bow to meet us...
Ifrane is high enough to get snow, so their roofs tend to be triangular, which was somehow incredible to me. We drove we past shaggy donkeys and rocky outcrops and spindly little trees. And then, the town proper swallowed us up. I barely got any photos of it, but that was because at the time it was 'just a town' to me. It had a French feel to it, was quiet and paved and had huge homes and lots of greenery.

We left it quickly behind and went, as C. S. Lewis wrote in The Last Battle , "further up and further in."
Eventually, the road began to decline again. Feeling the need to stretch, we dismounted anywhere we wanted. Twice beside a cliff, one with an outlook, and one with a lake at its feet, which I hazarded my way down.
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