tales from an ordinary world

2001-08-19

The carpark market. Tables for rent.

Gorging myself on CDs. I got 9 today, from assorted stalls and nearby shops.

The economy of spending new money on old money.

A little girl asks loudly, "Dad, what's that ?"

A familiar voice, walking the other way. The back of the head looks about right, but it's too late to say hello.

"Dad, what's that?"

Another familiar voice, the same guy I ran into at the Espy on friday night. Twice in 3 days, after 2 years.

Out to the main street for a little while - the old walk up the hill, over the train station and up to a few more CD shops.

I never come here anymore. So many suburban shopping strips. This one has 4 CD shops, at least. But even that, in itself, isn't really enough anymore.

Old things for sale, the detritus of people's lives. Regulars and the once-offs. Everybody's got something to sell.

The bell tolls. Ten minute warning. Cars escape through the crowd in slow motion.