In the hills beyond Taroudannt we saw a tortoise family on the move: big tortoise, smaller tortoise and small tortoise proceeded in a line through the rocky scrub, racheting over obstacles, swaying on scree, smaller tortoise knocking on the shell of big tortoise every few inches. I’m here, darling, I’m here. Onward, don’t ask, onward. We are a trail of life. Knock. Knock, knock. We watch the family of tortoises move across the stony ground. Knock, knock. The french for tortoise escapes me for the moment. Knock.
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