Jemaa el Fna

“Biqam?” asked Mahboob Chaudri, holding the ceremonial Berber belt in his hands and gazing admiringly at its bold colors and long tassels and glittering bits of mirror. “How much?” The belt would be an extravagance at any price, but Chaudri had promised himself an extravagance this day, and, after hours of searching through the souks of Marrakesh, he wondered if this might not at last be it.