Under an arch in the walls around Rabat's modest-sized old city, 8 or 10 typists ply their trade. Bring them official forms, letters, or anything else that needs that formal touch, and they'll hammer it out for you.

I came here with the intention of photographing an old man with coke-bottle glasses who hunched over an ancient Underwood typewriter, but when I asked, he didn't want me to take his picture. The man you see here, younger and hipper, offered to pose instead. He gave me his address so I could send him a print, but it translated as simply "typewriters, Bab [gate] Sidi Ghandour, Rabat, Morocco", so I'm not so sure he ever got it. Hopefully I'll remember to bring a copy with me next time I'm there.