My time

Crisp sunny morning fresh air on my skin

I gallop on my two wheels

fast and fast my feet eternity away from my head

smile effortlessly at last as if lips stretched by the blowing wind.

 

Today is Saturday.  The market day.  My morning.

Bag on my back cycling down, I am in anticipation

for the known stalls coffee smell people mostly make-up naked, slowing down to pick that bulging eggplant over there and the smell the much ripened bananas… put close to their nose and inhale life for the minutes that are everything.

for the unknown as the energy of the place is what I want and know but the inspiration is different each time.

Strong coffee I have cherished waiting for, the coca powder now on my upper lip and a chance to smile again.

One dollar, just for you.  An Asian vendor hands me a round melon.  I take it, grateful for a chance to be grateful.

Flood of people or rather streams meandering at different speeds close and away from me.

I find myself uncomfortable sometimes as a lone stick trying to navigate fast waters,

I hide behind sunglasses and my knuckles are a bit too white as I hold my bag.

But then reminding myself THEY came here pajama-mood and perhaps also lost in a fog of let-it-go, I relax.  Looking at vegetables and the smoke from the coffee stall over there does the extra trick and I am smiling again.

Tempted to taste my beloved churros.

Yes, with honey please, extra is fine. The extreme sweetness spills in my mouth and the cinnamon crunch now overwhelms my senses and I am, for the moment that means everything, in heaven.

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