george orwell. marrakech. essay

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I was going to write about how things are different here but found that Orwell already said that in “Marrakech” essay. I decided to post it because this guy was always cool and because it’s already in English.

No one would think of running cheap trips to the Distressed Areas. But where the human beings have brown skins their poverty is simply not noticed. What does Morocco mean to a Frenchman? An orange-grove or a job in government service. Or to an Englishman? Camels, castles, palm-trees, Foreign Legionnaires, brass trays and bandits. One could probably live here for years without noticing that for nine-tenths of the people the reality of life is an endless, back-breaking struggle to wring a little food out of an eroded soil.

more at

http://www.george-orwell.org/Marrakech/0.html

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