An elderly man wearing the traditional djellaba garment pulled up over his head, leaning back with a look of surprise

I was trudging aimlessly through the labyrinth of Fez, where the ancient, tightly woven alleys are designed to completely strip you of your sense of direction. This sprawling medina was intentionally constructed in the Middle Ages as a dizzying maze to thwart invading forces. Once you step inside, maps become utterly useless artifacts of a modern world that has no power here. It was in one of these shadowy, forgotten corners that I crossed paths with a mysterious man squatting quietly by the wayside. He wasn't waiting for anyone; he simply sat there, motionless as stone, blending into the ancient architecture.

With my camera in hand, I carelessly approached this solitary figure. The reaction was instantaneous: as if an assassin had materialized out of thin air, his eyes widened to their absolute limits in sheer shock. He recoiled violently, leaning back against the grimy plaster wall behind him at an awkwardly exaggerated angle. In the deep, wood-grain wrinkles of his weathered face, his half-open mouth and startled, wide-eyed gaze—perfectly captured as if in a high-contrast monochrome photograph—coalesced into a moment of pure, comedic harmony.

He was clad in a djellaba, the traditional hooded robe beloved by the people of the Maghreb. Tailored from wool or cotton, these flowing garments are designed to shield the wearer from the blistering North African sun and stinging sandstorms. The distinctive, pointed hood, known as a qob, is surprisingly practical, often serving as an impromptu pocket to throw in groceries or small personal effects. It is also widely believed that this very robe served as the visual inspiration for the Jedi Knights in Star Wars. Indeed, watching the locals glide silently through these ancient alleys, it is easy to slip into a surreal daydream—feeling as though you have touched down on some remote outer-rim planet, surrounded by retired Jedi going about their mundane, earthly days.

Yet, despite wearing a robe of such legendary, noble lineage, this particular "Jedi" seemed entirely devoid of the mystical Force. To be so thoroughly rattled by a mere camera—a harmless, rectangular box of glass and plastic—suggested his connection to the cosmic energy was tenuous at best. Rather than offering an awkward apology, I simply turned and hurried on my way, silently offering a useless, ironical blessing in my mind: May the Force be with you.