Last week I was walking through the town in which I live here in the Sahara. I saw a man riding a motorcycle down the street, clutching his passenger to his chest.
I wished I'd gotten a picture of him! However, I didn't get a photo of them for a couple of reasons. First, I didn't have my camera with me. But second, even if I'd had my camera with me, it wouldn't have been appropriate to have taken a picture of him as he and his passenger passed me. In Morocco, it's expected that you're not going to take a photo of someone unless you ask the person for permission. It wouldn't have been feasible to have asked him, since he was passing me on his motorcycle.
Since I saw him on his motorcycle, I've thought that I'll just have to do with recalling the image in my mind. Perhaps from time to time, I will recall, in my mind's eye, this man steering his motorcycle with one hand, and with the other hand, clutching to his chest a seemingly nervous sheep bleating its cries of protest as they rode down the street.
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