The first wheels I encountered in Morocco were the ones of a rumbling and smoking old moped, which passed way too close between my foot and the busy traffic of a Marrakesh’s street.

From then on, maybe because of the shock, I could not stop seeing wheels all around Morocco. In the following 10 days my wife and I toured the country: we drove, walked and camel rode over more than 1500 km. Wheels of any kind ended up filling my viewfinder throughout the trip.

Moroccan roads hypnotised me so much I could not stop taking photos even when our car was coasting in between Martian-looking scenery, crawling with lonely figures, walkers, bikers and huge areas of nothingness in between villages. When I returned home, I realised the sheer number of photos where wheels were the protagonists. I chose 10 that are also closer to the impression of authentic Morocco that I made in my mind.

“Wheels” originated from one of the travels my wife and us concede ourselves to distance ourselves from our office lives in Brussels. But it is also a window on the daily life of Moroccans, and an essay about transportation and movement in a country so vast and populous as Morocco.