Going to the market is not really part of my life. So I thought it would be a great idea if I took a picture.
I'm always afraid of feeling that I am being domesticated, maybe because I once felt that and I thought I didn't want it.
My thirty minutes stay there allowed me to embrace everything I hate about the market: the smell of fish and meat, the annoying sound of people trying to make a good bargain, and the display of vegetables and beans I can't name.
My market encounter wasn't hard. The first stall that was selling chicken wings was my perfect stopover. Obviously, for someone like me who was not versed to look at which seller has fresh meat, saying "This please" was just another line.
So I was out there the next second.