They play mad music. A beat of drums, of wooden soles and friendly arguments. A chant of crooked bartering, of laughter and motorcycle exhausts.A mill...on stars burn into your eyes. Blinking neons held in absurd contraptions, candles suspended in red glass, tall men spitting fire and the minaret of the Koutoubia mosque, wandering the sky like a lost sun. The smell of luscious tajines dances with the stench of the tanneries.This is the warmth of Jamaâ El Fna after a burning summer day, you'd know. He'd pulled a yellow pad out of my case and a pen, which he handed me. He had my mini mouse plugged in."All right. I've found some pictures I like but the final decision is up to you guys. We'll just go through all of them in the order we took them."Jack knelt on the floor in front of the computer and we all gathered around him. He clicked on the first one of the team, half on the bench, half off. He went through them, two or three seconds at a time. When he got to the last one, he left it on. More

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