Market Day

It rained a little bit last night. If I didn’t stay up almost all night, I would’ve never known. I contemplated the idea that real art has no purpose, no function, but a rapture to take one into a space, a void between thoughts. The whole debate about what purpose came up again and I don’t seem to come up with an answer no matter where I go.

Up early to catch the morning clouds. I like the look of them rising over the mountain top. The village on the slope though never caught the light I hoped to see. Down the road, the water-logged rice paddies reflected the sunlight above, traversing the ever-changing clouds.

I thought Ah-Che had already left for the market in town so I played by the river, filming the water, the bridge. when I was able to leave, I met him coming down my way. So I made him walk the bridge while I filmed from below, and we caught a moto-taxi together so I could film him riding into town. If everything I’ve filmed so far leave him in centuries back, this short ten minutes ride will bring him right into a world of cell phones, fashion boutiques, and internet cafes.

We stopped at the bustling market place. Villagers from the mountain come down to the town market every five days. It’s the chance to trade and meet. Ah-Che got his usual spot with other knife sellers.

Even though it’s not the high season for selling knives (mostly people need it before the firewood cutting season around winter months), Ah-Che got three sold in a couple of hours. He obviously looked happy. Other knife-selllers were not that lucky.

When he was done for the day and chose to walk the around five miles road back home, I browsed the market too, one of my favorite activities in these small towns.
Tomorrow, we’ll finish the rest of the lute and then story-telling and music playing for the week ahead.

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