How do you get to know a city? Is it in bits and pieces in the form of little pockets of space? Or in the stories the city produces, either directly or indirectly? These questions were my constant companions during my time in Casablanca. In my apartment, during the pauses in my writing, the noise beneath my balcony prodded my psyche. The sound of gridlock, heat, and despair begged answers to the question of how we come to know a place.

End of preview. Become a member or buy this article to continue!