Oh My Magpie Eye
Sunday afternoons often include a stop at the local flea market. Hope springs eternal that THIS time we’ll find something useful/unique/cheap. Amidst overpriced furniture shipped down from upstate, relentlessly scented soaps, nifty and not-so-nifty or thrifty vintage clothing, old records or surplus cosmetics, are the inevitable ethnic clobber stalls from various western African countries, the sub continent and parts further East.
These last stalls make my favorite shooting grounds: patterns and textures mix it up while various deities happily reside together.
Lunch is a culinary equivalent: scoffing down the unlikely and seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time buffet of half sour pickles, homemade kimchi, spanakopita and a black and white cookie, we always go home with a touch of browser’s (and scoffer’s) remorse.