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 stitch together the journey of remaking a life through art, travel, Morocco and finding a home

  • My two favorite people in Marrakech…written January 2025

    My two favorite people in Marrakech…written January 2025

    Walking home from dinner, a souk vendor caught my eye and invited me in to see his rugs. So far, I hadn’t been engaging beyond a smile and a nod. I don’t need to buy anything and mostly it feels safer to not engage this first solo experience in the crazy souks. Especially since I…

  • The Heat and Lessons from a Yurt

    The Heat and Lessons from a Yurt

    It really is it’s own being, the heat. Actual 117 degree, African heat. A pulsing, throbbing, shimmering, slate grey sky oppressive thing. Laying down over everything. Lion’s hot breath on the back of your neck so you lay still and pinned down, trying not to tempt it. Trying to avoid it’s notice. Deep breaths, cool…

  • Marrakech

    Marrakech

    I forget how much I love this place. The sounds, the heat, the colors, the chaos. Motorbikes carrying things you wouldn’t think could be carried; German shepherds, lamps, 5 people, trees. Traffic pulsing and rushing forward, horns honking. Palm trees, Moroccan flags, people everywhere. It’s terracotta and slate blue sky. Green palm trees. The Medina…

  • Begin again

    Begin again

    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 provided the catalyst…

  • waiting to meet me

    waiting to meet me

    Sometimes, maybe when I’ve been exposed to beauty, I feel such an aching fullness. A hope. Thick and real. Like something sticky and fleeting like it’s dripping through your fingers, and you can’t quite hold it but some of the residue is left on your hand. Driving through Roses Valley- all the doors. Metal with…

  • stepping off the path

    stepping off the path

    So, while I’ve thought this blog and this homecoming is about a return to Morocco…a place that grabbed my soul and hasn’t loosened its grip since I met her, I think the bigger thing happening is a homecoming to myself. I have no idea what I’m doing or what will happen. I put everything I…

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Julie Scott

Artist and Writer