Sunday, October 16, 2005

Vic Market

You escape the tedium of the day by engaging yourself in the busy hustle of the Vic Market. It has perhaps been more than 6 years that you have been back here, but it seems still untouched by the hours, days, years that have traversed since. The thing you missed most was the percussion of voices which immediately envelopes. There are the cagey vendors with their loud propositions you want? for you lady, five dollar!. You smile shyly, already sold on that feeling of time-warped nostalgia in his words, voice and intonation, but this was never an operation to empty the wallet and so you walk on. Everywhere the colours and noises bring it all flooding back. You remember, as a small child how you hung for dear life to the back of your mother's skirt, your little fingers clinging desperately to the material - knowing it would have to be ironed out the next day. One could easily get lost in the wave of people and drown in the sights and sounds of the Market and somehow this is comforting and frightening to both the 7 and 27 year old you, alike.

Idly you make your way to the end of each isle and turn accordingly to go down the next. Each row, brings new flavours, colours and noises - and yet, still all feel amazingly the same. What one stall offers, you could find as easily in the next isle, and the next and the next - all cheap knock-offs, gaudy wannabe-chic handbags and kangaroo-fur rugs. You know you're not going to buy anything but it's enough just to run your fingers along the merchandise and pretend for a moment.

that's all you've been wanting to do, since forever..