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In this clamorous marketplace on the sidewalk, where a weekly fair attracts upwards of two thousand people, the surrounding tumult is so overwhelming that no one can clearly hear another's words.
I exhale deeply and make my way to a fruit stall. Earlier, I had purchased a chicken, intending to prepare a delectable meal tonight. I am certainly not a vegetarian—
It's barely 10 in the morning. On this day of the week, the market swells twice over, offering everything at bargain prices. Since I must visit the Odamenth residence in the evening, I'm completing my shopping now, in the morning.
Dumbo isn't with me; he's probably at home, sleeping like a pig, as he has no particular duties in the morning. I proceed slowly, departing from the market and, after a short walk, I find myself acquainted once again with the opulent, ornately decorated buildings.
However, the shops of the affluent have not yet opened, which they likely will in the afternoon. I seldom travel this path, except on the one day a week when the large sidewalk market is held.
I, too, rose from sleep around nine. My home is still not quite in order, and several sculptures remain unfinished, tasks I must complete. The painting of the princess, which I had peered at for nearly sixteen years at the painter's shop, is no longer there—perhaps sold at a lofty price.
But I have been so fortunate as to become her artist. Even if I am incapable of anything else, at the very least, I have etched her visage in my mind, a face I can dream and imagine. A wry smile curls the corners of my lips as I pass by. I have pondered much about Kim Jiwie, whose existence exhilarates my world of fantasy.
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Although I no longer paint as I once did, I have wholly immersed my passion in sculpture. It is my mother's art. I am so engrossed in it that, after all these years, I have managed to reclaim her from the clutches of all sorrow and suffering. Previously, I could never do this because her memory always haunted me, turning into a nightmare over time.
How my mother died of a rare illness, we didn't have enough money for her treatment. Despite much pleading, a doctor advised me that the cure for her ailment could be found in another state far away. In this vast kingdom, there was no medicine that could heal my mother. Perhaps it was my misfortune, my famine at the time, which caused me to lose everything in the same stroke.
But at this moment, keeping myself strong is what matters most as I gradually become self-reliant. Whether or not I have anyone by my side in this world, I have Dumbo. I hope he will stay with me until the end.
