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The ground was gray and lifeless, as a field in the winter, and the shallow cracks could be seen all around. The leafless trees jiggled in the strong wind. Strumbles made the branches wave in all directions, like some predacious big hands. The sky was gray and sombre. Droning. Colorful plastic bags fled like a mating birds in their play, running from boring ground. The fat gipsy woman waddled in her large dirty sweater, holding in her left hand big piece of greasy pie while mopping her fatty lips stained with cheese with her right hand. She looked at the ground with her squinted eyes framed with one big jet-black eyebrow. Her legs were in friction while she walked and her thighs undulted under the dark blue tights. She disappeared in the noisy crowd beyond the counter with the curtains which swinged like the veils of Arabian women. Snotty, dark-skinned child ran around asking for money and pulling people's sleeves. Piles of used commodity lied down dusty and arranged out of any order. Crowlike middle aged woman with sunken eyes took out the bags with pillows and bedclothes from the old van. A guy with big pursy lips, in a white,very narrow T-shirt which made him look as a body builder, packed large pieces of cardboard into the same green van.The pass between the counters was so narrow that people pushed each other through like animals. Two old hunched ladies with berets on their heads and shopping bags fell onto the ground when a young athletic man ran through the crowd with lady's purse, and a tufted woman screamed from the crowd:
''A thief! A thief! Catch him!''
The young athletic man whized through the market, and the rotten fruits spilled onto the dusty ground. The stir shortly stopped and the river of people flew into the gorge again.
''Buy fresh doughnuts at ''Leonardo's! Buy fresh pastry! Come on, people! Sweet as my Ramajana! ''Buy fresh doughnuts at ''Leonardo's!''- the smiling chubby Mr. Murina shouted in front of his little confectionery.
An older scrawny man with long white mustache, dressed in bordeaux knitted bodice, with a green folk hat on his head slowly pushed his old bike next to him, while observing hammers on the counter full of tools. The merchandiser smiled artificially, holding his fat hand on his limp belly, persuading the poor grandsire to buy his bootleg. His black leather jacket glowed even there were no signs of the sun as like his golden tooth. And even his slicked black hair glittered, soaked with hair gel behind his fleshy ears.
''That must be Vita The God. He looks just like The Irony had described him. And he sells tools to hide his real merchandise – drugs. All matches. It must be him.'' – Nicola tought.
Suddenly, she appeared in an antlike crowd crawling through the market place, in a white long coat with furry beige hood and brown suede boots, with her long blonde curls falling down her back in waves. Her skin tender and senstive, her face pale and her cheeks rosy from winter frostiness, her childlike green eyes sparkled in an angelic way. And then their upset glances met.