Roadside Magic (2016)
“It pattered on canvas and tassels, and its song threaded through the hawker’s cries. Soggy velvet and false-shining tinsel, steam-vapor from vats of bubbling dye or stew, gold-crusted pasties sending out a mouthwatering delicious vapor though the meat in them was likely to gripe you, and fruit had appeared under heavy awnings, piled in carts. Such fruit, too! Damsons ripe and juicy, the dark jewels of thumb-sized blackberries, cherries both blushing and sun-yellow, ice-cold melons piled high and proud, apples of every hue—a poetess had glimpsed such things once, and though her doggerel left a little to be desired in Crenn’s opinion, she’d still managed to grasp some of the flavor of the Gobelin Markets.
The Markets were many and one, at the same time. An alley might be Morocco, bone-colored stone and desert spice, even the smoke full of sand. Another might be a winding cobblestone corner of Paris, a bookshop full of dusty tomes with a wizened wight hunching drawn-shouldered in the... door, his narrow head wreathed with pipe-smoke.MoreLess
The Markets were many and one, at the same time. An alley might be Morocco, bone-colored stone and desert spice, even the smoke full of sand. Another might be a winding cobblestone corner of Paris, a bookshop full of dusty tomes with a wizened wight hunching drawn-shouldered in the... door, his narrow head wreathed with pipe-smoke.MoreLess
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