It's a hot Saturday morning on red-eye Lane, and the sun is at its highest peek, the clouds and small wind do nothing cool anyone down.
Everyone is ether under some stall cover or stranded in the sunlight, thinking of packing up and leaving, the lucky ones in cars with slightly cold air conditioning.
The markets are so deserted it's as though you could walk down another lane and there would be noone there, only the air filled with the stagnant aroma of fresh home kill and wine.
Down every Lane there would be a new sale, wether it would be for fruit or wine, it is like a never ending maze.
;DT
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