MILAN
The market was drowning in a sea of people. Wooden buildings and a wide variety of market stalls that sold sacks of nuts, dried fruits, powdered spices, meat and other foodstuffs along with imported merchandise lined the road. Rich and unfamiliar scents hung heavy in the air, so heavy that I could almost taste it in my mouth, while stall owners screamed out what they sold at the top of their lungs to attract customers and customers tried to bargain for the best possible prices. The crowd had a life of its own and the people here flowed like rivers, only seeing one another as obstacles.
“You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep scrunching your face up like that,” Ragnar said next to me and I glanced at him for a brief moment. The both of us were sitting in front of one of the wooden
