They ventured between brick buildings painted the color of wine, beneath a black, wrought iron arch. Julian pointed up at it.
“Hmm… looks like “Mar... Market. Friend’s Farm Market!”
The alley opened wide before them, wider, a courtyard. And there was life inside, a fair, the buzz of bohemian artists and similar seekers of art. World music. Attire and hair that indicated membership in the creative fraternity. Love children, they rode a certain, knowing sine wave on an exclusive frequency.
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