I know a place where there is nothing left to eat, where everything has dried up and even eating palm dates is forbidden.

Noureddine, "Nouri", a man of about 40 years old, a little taller than me, with deep eyes and a warm voice, his skin is marked by the furrows of the sun. He is one of the last Berbers who still live in Oualidalì, a village in the Moroccan desert. He lives with his younger brother, Ajoub, who wears more Western clothes than Nouri and prepares an incredibly good vegetable Tajine.

Noureddine and Ajoub host people from all over the world thanks to the "Workaway" platform, giving them the opportunity to learn a little about their culture and learn how to build a home from scratch. Literally, you can learn how to create bricks with your own hands. However, it is increasingly difficult for them to continue living there. Due to climate change, most peasant families have moved to neighbouring cities such as Tagounite; in Oualidalì nothing grows anymore, except date trees.

Spending five days with the brothers Nouri and Ajoub, living a very modest life - sleeping on the floor, eating from the same plate, showering with water collected from a well a few metres away, without connection to the internet or other electronic devices - made me realize how disconnected we are from the world and from ourselves.

When my friend and I arrived on a clear autumn night at the Tagounite bus stop, the closest city to Oualidalì, Ajoub came to pick us up with a three-wheeler. It was late at night, and the only thing I remember is that we jumped on the back, lying on our backpacks, along a road that seemed endless. I was cold, but I was enchanted. I admired the sky, without artificial lights, full of stars. I was at peace.

NOUREDIN

On a bright fall day in the mid of october, Nouri took us for an hike to the closest mountain.

We got the chance to see the sun falling down, the desert getting ready to accept the deep dark of the night.