The tranquility of the early morning was interrupted by the expected playfulness of the morning winds. Sheets of newsletters were fastened to a brick wall with four sizable black nails, appearing alternately expanded and contracted like a beating heart, showcasing ‘Market Place’.
The scene was filled with a chaotic crowd. People were pushing, shoving, and shouting. They hurriedly grabbed items, often in groups consisting of parents and children, other family members, or even friends. It was this group of people that created a constant buzz of noises!
The stall holders served customers in long lines or enticed passers-by with various shouts to attract them to their goods. The stall holders’ actions were almost reflexive, smiling, picking up the merchandise, packaging it, and handing it over to the customer. The exchange between the seller and buyer occurred so rapidly that it was difficult to track with the naked eye. The stalls appeared on the brink of collapse under the weight of their abundant products.
The market awakened from its peaceful slumber and became a chaotic scene. The street was filled with crowded shops and street vendors, making it difficult for people to navigate. All sorts of shops lined the street, standing obediently without doors, knowing they wouldn’t last against impatient and violent customers. Customers fought for attention at the counters, yelling like mindless monkeys fighting over a banana. Worn-out wagons displaying vegetables were parked on the side, with owners shouting prices like auctioneers using a carrot to shoo away flies. Sweaty buyers skillfully maneuvered through the crowd, finding small gaps to squeeze through. Pickpockets took advantage of the chaos, stealing from busy buyers. Savvy visitors wore tight pants to discourage pickpockets.
A woman, burdened with numerous bags, struggled to check items off her list with a pen clamped between her teeth. The sun heated the stifling, odorous air that reeked of sweat and decomposing fish. No air freshener could overpower the sour, putrid smell that dominated the congested atmosphere. The hot afternoon wore out the market, causing newcomers to feel breathless and exhausted, yet regular shoppers persisted defiantly. The chaotic market overwhelmed ears with its deafening clamor, resembling a colossal speaker. Vendors shouted prices while frustrated housewives engaged in heated arguments with irritable shopkeepers. Oblivious to the masses around him, an ignorant driver honked his car horn as he brazenly attempted to navigate through the crowd. It seemed as if all the sounds in the world were congregating in one place. Rarely did anyone witness this furious market in a state of slumber. But occasionally, when a gentle breeze brushed over it and carried away the crumpled paper scattered on the ground, the street would become lifeless and silent like a graveyard. In these moments, moonlight faintly pierced through the clustering clouds, illuminating the scene.
The market is always ready to burst with life, like a sleeping beauty awaiting the first light. Few people truly appreciate its age and charm. It has existed longer than its inhabitants, harboring ancient secrets in its core and vast knowledge in its growth. The atmosphere is filled with the sounds of crying children, their clothes stained with dribble, and the nauseating mix of dirty diapers and body odor. It permeates the air like the pungent smell of a skunk. Like a snake stalking its prey, the crowd steadily moves towards the next stalls as more people pour in through the already bustling entrance. The weariness on a father’s face becomes evident as he encourages his family to continue down the street to the fabric stalls.
The stalls were bursting with vibrant and flamboyant colors, ranging from fluorescent cyan to deep ruby red. Along the street, large tattered wagons were adorned with a collage of clothes, while their owners eagerly yelled out prices like auctioneers. In the midst of the hustle and bustle, sweaty buyers skillfully maneuvered through the crowd by finding small gaps between people. Meanwhile, pickpockets roamed like rabbits in a field of carrots, snatching purses from unsuspecting buyers who were too engrossed in bargaining. The quality of the clothes was exquisite, with every individual thread visible as they intertwined. However, the enticing aroma of Indian spices wafted through the air nearby, attracting people from all corners.
The bustling market had awoken from its peaceful slumber, causing the shops to become crowded and the street to narrow, forcing people to walk in a single file. On both sides of the street stood various types of shops, silently preying on exhausted shoppers. One side featured a wide range of spices in vibrant colors, while on the other side were shabby and decaying stalls. Weary bodies sought refuge from the constant pushing and shoving. In one corner, a lone shopkeeper was overwhelmed by a group of shouting buyers and was engulfed in a wave of bodies, like an enemy assault.
The faint noise of an engine silenced as Kit-Kat wrappers swirled around in cyclonic patterns, scraping against a banner secured to a brick wall with four large black nails. The banner, resembling a heart, prominently displayed ‘Sell it Market Place.’ A bird’s eye view revealed a slow-moving Ford car approaching on the steep gradient. Despite its early arrival, the Ford was relentlessly pursued by the ear-splitting buzz of a Vauxhall in its rear view, driven by fury. The Vauxhall attempted to bully the Ford further up the hill and into an empty space within the car park. Once the dispute concluded, both cars meticulously parked between two yellow lines to avoid costly collisions. This process repeated until the yellow lines were obscured by a swarm of streamlined cars, leaving only a few reserved spaces for the Ford-like cars that had arrived earlier that day.
The era of cars came to a stop, replaced by the busy lifestyle of today. Customers approached the automatic double glass-doors, which slid open to welcome them with a warm breeze from the immersion heaters hidden behind the main doors of the market. A girl dressed as a Mother Fairy walked across the stone floors with her rigid sandals. Despite her mother forcefully pulling her from behind, she refused to enter the market and instead sat on the cold floor, crossing her legs tightly. Her mother, with strong force, dragged her towards the cash machine. Overwhelmed, the girl started crying when she saw that her ‘magic’ wand had been taken away by her mother and firmly held in her hand. Intrigued, she turned her head and looked through the clear doors of the market opposite to her. To her surprise, she saw a Fairy Queen toy sitting on a chair, facing her in the same direction. Ignoring her mother’s earlier lectures on good behavior, she stared at the Fairy Queen with a combination of love and daughterly affection, hoping for a moment when her mother’s grip would loosen. Taking advantage of this opportunity, she broke free and ran closer to the enchanting power that radiated from the Fairy Queen.
She embraced the Fairy Queen and asked if she could borrow her wand, which was angled towards the ceiling, for a magic trick. Assuming that the Fairy Queen would agree, she adjusted the wand and aimed it at her mother, hoping that it would cast a freezing spell. Unfortunately, the girl’s spells failed to work, despite the strong spirit she summoned. Her upset mother then took hold of her, gripping tightly and speaking sternly as they walked towards the fruit stall. At the stall, an older couple walked from crate to crate, meticulously inspecting every strawberry and apple for any imperfections. Outraged by the high prices displayed on slippery flags, the man tried to negotiate with the shopkeeper. However, the shopkeeper ignored his complaints and gave him a smug look while serving other customers. Displeased, the elderly couple turned their attention southward, hoping to find a better deal. South of the fruit shop, children mingled with squirrels nibbling on chocolate. They all gathered around a small artificial fountain that constantly sprinkled dark-brown chocolate. People lined up behind it, captivated by its otherworldly display.
Even the children, surprisingly silent, watched as customers picked their choices from a variety of everyday fruits and cakes. Next in line was a youth with undersized jeans and hair covering his forehead. After hesitating over the options, he skillfully retrieved a one pound coin from his pocket and began selecting his choices. With each choice, he hummed and paused, then the skewer pierced through the fruit and plunged into a pool of chocolate. Ignoring the excited atmosphere created by the children, he examined the chocolate dropping onto the plastic plate and mixed it with the fruit. After eating three choices, he faced his last one – a chocolate-covered pineapple. He took a bite, causing the pineapple juice to spread and moisten his lips.
The man made a sour face and hummed a tune as he sipped the pineapple juice. Once the taste wore off, he headed towards the bustling eastern part of the market, keeping an eye out for friends. He noticed the Fish market entrance, which had a color-changing header. As he walked past it, he saw the ‘Fresh Fish’ stall where spotlights shone on the fish lying on ice. Christmas hollies were used to decorate the ice, perhaps as a tribute. The fishmonger at the stall wore a black and white striped apron with a logo of a smiling fish in the center. He was helping an old lady who wanted fresh salmon. The fishmonger reached into the cold chamber with his bare left hand and randomly picked a salmon. He placed the fish on a rectangular board, which had scratches from previous cuts, showing its history. With a sharp knife in his right hand, he applied pressure with his left hand to mutilate the fish’s body.
The knife sliced horizontally through the scales, revealing the flesh beneath. It then sliced vertically three times. The resulting fleshless pieces were wrapped in paper soaked in sea-water and handed back to the old lady, who stored them under her shoulder. She paid for the fish with three one pound coins and left, walking towards the weighty doors of the eastern exit. Mature individuals held the doors open for people entering and exiting, exchanging pleasantries on humility. Outside the market, streamlined cars were parked, some with open roofs as the sunset’s mild shadowy shine faded. In the shade stood a mother and her young boy, surrounded by shopping bags. The boy clung to his new spider-man toy, swinging its large rectangular box to create a cooling breeze for his bored mother as they waited for a taxi.
