Can a place we’ve never been shape our fate? Can discovering it unravel, stitch by stitch, the life we’ve known?

This is where I stich together the journey of remaking a life through art, travel, Morocco and finding a home

  • Loose Threads: full moon

    Loose Threads: full moon

    I will remember this night for the rest of my life. Sitting on my patio. Full moon. Trees dancing in the breeze. Something unseen, crunching and munching in the bushes. Frogs serenading the river. The men playing drums and singing to the moon and the stars and the sky and each other on the dune….

  • Wanting what I want

    Wanting what I want

    From July 2025 Every time you think you know something, it changes. Something shifts.  I don’t know what this is. I thought I did. A discovery of a home. A lost place. Found in Morocco. But I’m not sure it was ever about the place. I think the place was the trigger. The space that…

  • Self-imposed, accidental exile. Again.

    Self-imposed, accidental exile. Again.

    How do I keep doing this? Three years in a row is a thing, right? I was fine until I wasn’t.  Too many late-night drum circles, too much wine, and today I crash. When I was sixteen or so my dad said something to me that I still haven’t learned, and I remind myself of…

  • Loose Threads: green room

    Loose Threads: green room

    Green room…huge flowers painted on the wall. Tiny little lights, everyone’s faces glowing…sun setting on the terrace. So loud all the conversations rising and falling. Smells this morning of fresh donuts frying. Crisp morning air. Bread man organizing his cart, stacking loaves into neat rows like coins in a tray. Donkey carts pulling cement blocks….

  • Ramadan

    Ramadan

    I was invited to stay for Ramadan. I’m not sure that’s exactly what happened so much as it was just clear that I would be staying because why wouldn’t I be? Last year, I left just before and the sisters were sad I was missing it and said, “Next year, inchallah.” It is the special…

  • My Moroccan Family

    My Moroccan Family

    I have a family in the desert that is not my family. But somehow, we know each other. Somehow we are the same. When I met them, I recognized them instantly, and I think they felt the same. Jacque told me when I first arrived, they said, “Oh finally, you’re here!”  They had been waiting…

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Julie Scott

Artist and Writer