when i declare my love for the market on sunday mornings.

I love:

the smells of fresh baked goods floating through the air by the boulangerie

sharp cheese aromas and fruity scents of the gelato in the nearby cafe

the refreshment of fizzy sodas in their curved bottle shapes and the hums of conversations which linger in the atmosphere

the tepid water from the fountain which spills over onto the red bricked street

black iron gates pointing their spears to the sky

parasols and silk polka dot hankerchiefs in the pockets of the old man's vest

the young boys on the corner, playing their cello and violin which reverberate throughout the walls of space and bodies