We stop in front of the Red House, our third stop. The setting sun sets the large stone house ablaze, built near a hot spring and an old hammam in the deserted village of Ifri.

From the terrace overlooking a lush garden, I see Aziz picking plants to make herbal tea.

I haven't yet talked about Aziz, who is on the road with me. Aziz is a butler for the agency. His role is to make sure everything goes well. At first, I felt uncomfortable with the idea of ​​someone working for me. But Aziz is funny, I appreciate his presence and his humor, and above all, thanks to him, I experience for the first time the luxury of thinking about nothing other than painting.

As we speak, the mountain-colored birds have stolen my cakes. Obviously their camouflage is on point.