We are taking down the sukkah. The colorful decorations, sparkles, and the pictures of all our saints, slowly wrapping and folding back into the box. The empty sukkah became my mother's marking of the stars.

I ask my mother to let me photograph her in the empty sukkah. My mother runs away from the gazing camera, just like the women I have asked to photograph in Tiznit. Only after my recent trip to Morocco could I understand this gazing phobia of my mother and the cultural taboo.

I hung a black string against the white walls. A large sheet of parchment wrapping paper. She is circling.

I photographed my mother, and then photographed the image in the lens of the camera with my mobile device. Then I deleted the pictures. These are photographs of photographing my mother.