tangier called me

her chaotic streets, her dirty alleyways, her ferries to Spain,

her colours, her food, her people, and her charm

to me, she is art.

everywhere

she whispered to me across the waters,

asking me to remember my forgotten dreams.

.

she introduced me to the Beat Generation

their smoky dens, their dark and dingy cafés, their words,

their rebellion and chaos,

and, of course, the never-ending mint tea.

a space free of alcohol

.

it seemed my inner masculine was drawn to the Moroccan men... lounging on daybeds — still, observant, rooted, pensive — holding the world in a very masculine form

.

later, in August, I returned — after selling my home, finally free but absolutely exhausted!

it was a magical time, and, as serendipity would have it, Jack Kerouac and Tom Waits came with me — companions of the road. Only later did I realise their connection to the Beats, to that moment in history when art was rebellion and freedom was the prayer.

divine guidance embodied.

deep gratitude felt

.

Tom Waits, though not technically a Beat writer, carries their bloodline in music.

He grew up devouring Kerouac's prose and Burroughs' surrealism and his songs,

with their smoky bars, lost lovers, and philosophical drifters,

are modern echoes of that same restless spirit

.

Waits once said he wrote songs "for people who've fallen between the cracks" — the same people the Beats wrote for.

his rhythm, wordplay and gravelly, improvisational language is pure Beat jazz.

he's often described as a musical Kerouac, with albums like Rain Dogs and Swordfishtrombones painting cinematic portraits of life at the edges

much like Tangier herself

.

Tangier speaks to Shakti in her truest form

creation in motion, chaos as art.

everywhere...

people are making, selling, moving

life spilling onto the streets

.

every shop,

every colour invites you home to your nurturing nature,

expanding your energetic world,

reminding you of your essence

.

to feel alive, light and expansive

and to be free