In Tazenakht, I ran into Simon. He lives in his van with a dog called Tawa. They offered me a ride west, and we camped together one night by the side of the road. Simon is from France. We talked in French and compared our experiences of Morocco. My limited vocabulary made it more difficult to express certain ideas, but because we had a similar attitude towards traveling, I felt like we could understand each other pretty well, even when words failed.