A privileged place, a space for particular revelation of the human being. A fertile land, a womb which discreetly and mysteriously nourishes the eternal flame of poetry. […] How to express the enchantment, the splendour of this light? The haze of the dunes and the sandy bay, the jagged rocks cutting an eternal gash in the distance. And there, on the horizon, like a sleeping monster, lie the crimson isles guarding the entrance to the bay.

Three women, all born in Essaouira, answer in words and pictures Edmond Amran El Maleh's question in his introduction, Delving into recollections of their childhood, they rediscover the heady fragrance of Mogador in the Essaouira of today.

Making the voyage with them is even better than visiting the town: we find the past in the present; a present beyond the past; sensations in the color of the walls and the gusting of the wind. We encounter the motionless onlookers who have made of this city an inspiring place, a place of vitality and communication for so many artists.