February 7. Start Making sense O blind poet
Imagine a crowded market, piles of vegetables, leeks, turnips, potatoes, onions everywhere, a meager dog with a fishbone in its mouths slips under a shaggy table. The sharp smell of overripe pineapples blends with the dustclouds between the stalls. Coarse voices reiterate their merchandize and their mantras feel comforting. An old hunchback offers dried fruits ...