Today I felt rather famish and visited the fast food place on my way to the store, to find out the door was closed, I was rather disappointed, it was almost 9:30am and the doors were still closed? I couldn’t believe it; however I quickly walked away before passing pedestrians noticed me forcing to open an obviously shut door. I backed away slowly, and flew up the flight of steps where two men sat before being shooed off by passing officers.
My stomach growled and as I cashed my necessities I asked the cashier what time the junk store opened she told me she wasn’t sure. On my way back I checked again and luckily or rather unluckily it was opened this time , went in and ordered my two piece combo, original and mountain dew coated with friendly customer service. After I sipped my drink I stepped out and was blasted my pulsating rhythms taking over the town bringing my attention to the local market at the other side of the road. I decided to cross the busy street beneath the scorching sun with sweat slithering down my face as I pulled out my camera.
Playing tourist, I began snapping photos of buyers purchasing their oranges, carrots, bananas and fruits, surrounded by madras drapery, amplified by local folklore music I felt the festive activities amplified, the vibe pulled me in as I wanted to be part of the action.
Engulfed by local produce and voices of my native tongue, the Creole season was taking off with lively spirits, giving me a sense of urgency for the week ahead.