He suddenly appeared out of nowhere. We were drawn to the main courtyard and the mosque, so perfectly preserved and clean they seemed newly built. The man approached us, he was the guardian, and shared how, in Tichit, many of the buildings had been reconstructed using the exact techniques of the city’s original builders. We stood under the scorching sun, and as he unfolded the history of this enchanting place, we slipped into the shade behind a wall, where the temperature dropped just a few degrees. I still remember the gentle breeze that drifted through that quiet alley.
