"And just as we take for granted that a map is a true representation of the territory it is depicting, we assume that clocks can capture the true nature of time and reality or subjective temporal experience."

— Placing time, Timing space : Dismantling the Master’s Map and Clock, Rasheedah Phillips

2 Les gouttes

4 Sur la fenêtre, rigolent

0

1 Ruisseaux

2 S'assècheront bientôt

0

2 Faisant fi

5 Des souvenirs et des doutes

It is not a rush, yet everyone has a reason to be here, a task to accomplish. I find my way through the crowd, walk a bit faster here and there to not get myself too distracted. I myself have a mission to accomplish, on which my survival depends. This task is called "reach the farmer from St Quentin vegetable stand before he runs out of fresh garlic". 11h30. It is the market peak hour on this Friday morning. The Marché de l'Estacade is buzzing, nested below the arches from the elevated train tracks. My kitchen knives are waiting for me a bit further, I dropped them at the sharpener's stall first thing when I arrived. Luckily, he is right next to Jordan's spots, the best cheese seller from the region and, obviously, my personal favorite. 11h30. The unutterable smell of roasted chicken spreads through the air, the wine seller is giving a taste of his product to whoever asks, the tapenades and olives guy culminates in his art of being pushy, smiling and inviting all at once. In thirty minutes, the market will close down, in two hours, the place will look like any other parking lot in the city. But right now, and like every morning but Mondays, this market portrays what humans are, and displays all their little funny behaviours, next to the apples and mandarins.