Tangiers (#1306)(an instance of Generic Secured Post-Apocalypse Room made by Salome)The smell of cinnamon, sun hot on baked stone, camel dung--this is the Tangiers of your memories. Like the yellowed pages of an old National Geographic article, the colors and sounds of Tangiers come to you in familiar, but distant images. A crowded market, children running close to your legs, toothless old men hawking their goods in loud, rich Arabic. Something is frying, the funk of sweat and dust and cooking oil rises up like a heavy cloud, incense hanging off its billows. The crowd presses around you, brushing against your shoulder, pushing you towards the tables of gold and silver, exotic fruits, elaborate tapestries. It's hot. How can that snake charmer stand the hot ground? His snake writhes up, climbing on a ladder of humidity, flickering the wet air with its thirsty tongue. A small, squat veiled woman nudges past your elbow, carrying a basket of fragrant flowers. The ground thrums with the pad of sandaled feet, the thump of camels shifting, braying in obstinance. Turn the page; fold out the full color map and find yourself moving north to Marrakech. You see Snake Charmer here. EXITS: [ north ] The Marrakech. |