To Market

Having nothing pressing on hand, i accompanied my mother to the market.

The original place was under renovation, so the makeshift one was located under some tents. Very cosy. Few people. Conditions check.

The market used to be and still is a place for information. At the fruit stall, the vendor informed my mother on a wrong festival date, while the fishmonger lamented on how he was the last of his kind. Ten, twenty years on, he said, they would be all gone, while pointing out that he was the "youngest" around. No one wants to do this kind of work anymore, he sighed. True.. but their roles would probably just end up replaced by Chinese migrants instead.

The fishmonger was an absolute showman, pattern duo guo badminton. really. His preparatory chops, his tossing of the fish, the exaggerated hand swings and finally when he presented the fish in a bag, like some magician who had just pulled a whale out of his hat. A joy to watch. Respect.

Conditions. Mindfulness.