At
end of winter South Melbourne Market-goers emerge, all things in proper place.
Experienced faces of sellers draw us in. Avocados through zucchinis, oranges in
tissue paper, apples in different colours rise high. Babbling students, refreshing
lovers, haughty lawyers and hoarse punters talk common language of coffee and
croissants. Clanking trolleys and shouts of exchange make abstract arias in
aisles. Pantomime of hands and eyebrows, as butchers anticipate bloody
requests. In October delicatessens get lively, the wine-man’s faith is
restored. It’s more chaotic than clouds above ramshackle trees, than pristine
containments of city buildings, lost from view in the rush.
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