What you see are thick lines of concrete, piled upon each other. These are floors, which have simply collapsed and now sit, like pancakes in a pile.
A woman here is sobbing, quietly. We talk to her, as gently as we can, and she wants to tell us what happened. Her name is Hafida and her brother, Miloud, lived in one of the houses.
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He was the local police chief, and he lived here with his wife and their two children. The youngest child, a daughter, survived and is now in hospital in Marrakesh with a broken leg.
His wife and their son are still missing. Miloud’s body had been recovered already. He was killed by rubble that hit his head as he lay over his son, trying to shelter him.
As we talk, a massive digger arrives to help lift the rubble. It is parked, then turned off. Nobody knows quite how to react except with profound, searing grief.