The Shuk and I

Could this be the first time I am writing about my love?

My Friday afternoon ritual of winding my way past vendors of sweet smelling herb and spices...live vertebrates flailing in the air, luscious strawberries for 5 shekels...old men drinking Turkish coffeee...The vegetable man with his cigarette ashing over the produce...his hands stained with hard labour...

I know exactly which merchants to buy the quality produce from...they nod at me...these characters are larger than life...staright out of a comic book with features exaggerated in order to capture the authenticity of a bargain in the shuk.

My senses are saturated...and sometimes you have to sit down...in a coffee shop like Mizrachi for a Limonana...or pause by oily baklava for a sample...

There's change as well...the Art Gallery with all it's bric-a-brac has closed...an Aroma cafe has commercialised the open shuk...

The people hustle and bustle and I feel like I am participating in a communal exercise. I am just like them...feeding a family...rushing before Shabbat to get Challot...

It's so attractive....It's like a heart beat....a signal that the people are alive