An insect comes flying to this screen and dies at the light.
The marketplace blinks an eye, removes it.
The marketplace is full of things.
People Noise Sound
Trains on tracks, moving up-down
Wet dripping red tomatoes
and pink tearing onions...
The marketplace is full of jumbles.
Faces Cups Food Tables
Slurpy curries, hot and sour soups and noodles
and the cold coffee...
The marketplace has some special peoples.
Talking quiet loving staring selling buying
red shirts, yellow skirts, flowery lungis, blue jeans, hunter shoes, black bagpacks
The marketplace I tell you, is a place I visit often.
or it visits me...
or stays inside me...
or floats around wherever i go...
My beloved, the marketplace.