Monday morning I went to the market . yes yes I know, it is news exceptionally creepy. the hole spewing oil into the ocean to rivers or the assaults on Israeli ships loaded with humanitarian aid dangerous place it in second place vegetable expenditure being Brunelleschi. have now reached a stage of early dementia in which every event is loaded with meaning more: "Mrs. Pina knows that Mr. Gino brought cherries to 3.50 euro per kilo?" has become a desirable place in everyday life. in fact, are days that I eat cherries.
was intense sun, fresh air, the clouds scattered in patches in the sky that almost no one believed to be in Turin. everyone was happy, or so it seemed to me as I was in a good mood, the pews were full of fruit and vegetables in season (ok, now I do not exaggerate, a mixture of seasons now that you can not make a fuck), and then the flowers , plants of basil, and schools of women's high fashion, and those with the slippers in homage to 1 € with a juicer, and products for the home and the Senegalese with sunglasses Tarot. and it was all shouting in a thousand languages \u200b\u200bwith the Romanian greets waxy Mrs. calabbrese and peasants of the valleys in the Piedmontese dialect speakers who do not understand anything and that teenagers guitar oh fuck what you do not know what he told me and Comara who congratulated for apricots the other day.
no, I swear, I had not got high before, I really like going to the market. perhaps because times are a slave because of the bifurcation, where there is always the same light of neon, where the endless shelves of pictures always remind me of Koyaanisqatsi, where every product you can save 3 cents but also fruits, vegetables and meat are made of polyethylene foam, where there is noise and shouting but all are silent or screaming to scold the child who wants to snack which has seen advertising on TV. here, accustomed to the alienation of shopping centers, one morning among the market stalls I think made a dive into another era of simple habits and popular culture.
sometimes I think that spending their days doing the daily shopping, cooking, doing chores, in short, to make the steward is not all that bad. or maybe I'm one of many that has the hour of crap to work and can not do normal things ...
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