A box of Cakes in Marrakech

Djemaa El-Fna, probably not unlike most nights, is buzzing with music, snake charmers, henna ladies and hundreds of tourists.
Street stalls fill the air with the smell of grilled meats as restaurant waiters try to lure you in to eat. We concede to one of many, pleased to have a moment to savor the peace of no one approaching us, of no one trying to sell us something, where we can take our time to observe the chaos around us.
A cart full of sweets rolls by we can’t miss the opportunity for something sweet after our meal, the waiters begin to yell at the cake man and shoo him away. We order mint tea to enjoy with some of our sweets.
We take our time heading home through the souq, browsing the richly coloured spices and fabrics, and politely declining offers from shop keepers. Soon we realise we’re lost, and that one second of stalling is all it took for us to be approached. ”It’s closed, it’s closed” the boy says, pointing in the direction we’re heading, ”it’s OK” we say, we wanted to continue our lazy walk home. He continues to follow and we continue to walk, suddenly he surprises us as he jumps and grabs at the box, I hold on and we’re locked in a battle for the sweets, but I win and he scatters off. Stunned I look at the box in my hands now broken, the sweets a mess.
I hold onto the box tightly, and we hurry on, but we’re lost and we’re getting deeper and deeper into parts of the souq we don’t recognise, as shop owners begin packing down for the evening I begin to feel panic. But it’s not long before we realise we’ve been going in circles, and on round three of circling the same streets we find our way back to Djemaa El-Fna and can breathe a sigh of relief. We allow a stall owner to pull us in for some spicy tea and cake.
Relaxed we walk home via a route that worked for us yesterday, a little girl approaches to sell a fluorescent wand, we decline and she raises her fingers to her mouth ”you want a sweet?” I ask, she nods and is stunned as I hand her the box.