Outside the medina, heading north. The city that goes unseen, and that probably no one looks for. A wide road runs along the sea, sand has taken over everything, to the point that some building doors can no longer be opened. On the pavements, rubble, abandoned objects of every kind, waste accumulated without urgency, strong smells. Then low houses, white, worn, silent. A neighbourhood that neither hides nor apologises. Hors les murs.
