A woman in a small room offers you a...
A woman in a small room offers you a seat by her side. Someone asks what the woman is doing. We won't know for years if the flour she grinds, stone upon stone, will make its way to Spain.
As she reduces the corn to dust with her calloused hands, she turns the gears on the mill three times for just a few coins. En Tunisia it costs a dinar, but it's not obligatory.
To keep the folklore alive you take a photo of the grinder working on the carpet, listening to the ringing sound of the coins. The Berber woman dismisses us. Who was going to tell her I was going to be part of the strange gallery where I only imagine doing what she has done all her life.