Market

Bees crawl in and out of clear plastic wrapping stealing bits of sugar from tough pastries. I consider purchasing them anyway due to their donut-like resemblance, but I move on remembering the disappointment I found in my last visit. I purchase potatoes and carrots at the door to the stalls before stepping over a small cage of brightly colored chicks and pushing through a crowd of people selling everything from underwear to plastic bags to ask about the blackberries that are calling my name across the street.

“5 a pound,” says the woman as she sees me eying their juicy flesh. A truck honks and I end up almost sitting in the blackberries. Other people are pressed up against walls to allow the truck to pass through the crowded street. After it passes, I nod and pay the lady for the blackberries, because I’m already a bit winded from arguing about broccoli and garlic, and I need to try to find the ladies selling bread before they leave. I didn’t find them though, and I settle for buying tortillas on the way home knowing I’ll be back tomorrow anyway.

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