Tannery, Fes, Morocco

i walk to the tannery, not directly as it is far away, down the hill through shop-filled lanes. The smell is supposed to alert me to it's whereabouts, but it is the donkeys' laden with fresh and stinking sheep pelts that i notice first. They are unavoidable in the narrow lanes and squeeze their way through the crowds, rubbing dags and blood on people as they pass.

Two small boys lead me to a door. Up steep steps i climb three flights into a shop displaying leather poofs, folders, shoes and jackets, and walk onto a terrace overlooking the tannery. Below me men are working waist deep in vats of dyes, turning over cloth with wooden poles and spreading them in the sun. Sheepskins are drying on every available rooftop.

i take many photos, and buy a leather folder on my way out.