Gritty and Rustic

Meandering through the market on Saturday, I thought of this country as a gritty and rustic place. My eyes always manage to scan an alleyway or a doorway, as that’s where you can see life in its most genuine moments. It could be a shy little boy peeking his head out to see what kind of day will greet him. It could be two older ladies taking their daily stroll about the neighborhood. It could be a man setting up his breakfast cart and getting ready for a day of business. Regardless of what it is, it’s in those moments that I’m reminded of the contrast between old and new, dark and light. The little boy may peek his head out of a decrepit doorway, but his pronounced “hello” lights up the darkness. The sharp chatter of the older ladies creates a new sound amidst the honking and squeaking of bike brakes. The breakfast cart’s sweet smells waft into the air and delight my nose and taste buds; the hustle and bustle of its patrons brings the street to life in a new way, and the magic of this place becomes new once again.