Markets are pretty cool. They are a place in which people may gather to make sales transactions or to browse for things that may not be that necessary. The stock market is fun. You can trade different shares in different companies. That’s pretty cool. You can get pretty rich by doing that. My grandpa did it once. Potato.
The market store across the street is one of the busiest in town. Such local markets are great for people who do not want to hassle with big businesses like Wal-Mart.
to market to market where people live, love and trade. in apples. or wine. a verb, a noun and a feeling.
busy, boisterous. places where bombs are dropped.
place where money rules.
On Sunday, November 24th, 2014, at approximately 9:02 AM, Thomas Tiklis stepped through the reinforced doorway of his basement duplex to attend his biweekly grocery run down at 24th and Gratiot’s own historical second floor market, Mikhail n’ Sons’ Food n’ Stuff.
one day I went to the market to buy a loaf of bread. I met a cute little asian woman that insisted on telling me her lifes story. I sat quetrly as she went on and on, and then suddenly there was a loud bang that came from the ladies rest room. The people around looked shocked and appaled to find that all of the toilets were overflowing, creating a tidal wave that flooded the isles.
fruits and nuts and stocks and women and markers and carts and india and turkey and spices and cloth and wool and people and people and people with colors and textures and sounds and smells and feels and dirt. but also that real awesome good feeling of happiness.
Markets are a place to exchange goods. It can be used to determine the maximum consumer and producer surplus to form community surplus. It is what you title a supply and demand graph in economics. It is also a place of cultural exchange. Lots of people in colorful dresses.
people go to shop here….
they can be crowded in most cuntries like india…..usually lively in the early mornings or late evenings
markets will have many vendors selling various wares
depending upon what u want or need o that part of the market place.
now ays markets aheplaced by malls or supermarkets..
and hence they are prevalent in mostly small towns and cities.
I went to the farmers market one day. All I wanted was a box of strawberries but all of the booth’s were completely out. Disappointed, I began my mission to find those tasty, delicious, juicy red happiness. You see, strawberries give me energy and without them I would die.
I saw a little bird in the market place today. I dropped all my shopping bags and chased it for as long as I could but it had fluttered away. It was a vivid yellow colour, I remember it well. I saw it again from the corner of my eye and ran toward it like that of a child running toward the Ice Cream van. But alas, it had flown away before I grasped the yellow bundle of joy. Woe is me, woe is life, woe is the market place.
Chester strolled along the market square. Seven cheese sellers had congregated at this particular spot. The sausage and vegetable merchants had moved across town as the cadre of purveyors of curded victuals had taken over. This was good as Chester was lactose tolerant, and now that he’d been elected president of the zoning board, cheese would soon be the only food available within the city limits.
Yesterday I went to the market and who did I see, none other than Nelly himself! Well, I walked up to this washed up son of a bitch and I said “Oh woo, is it hot in here?” he laughed and revealed a nice set of grillz. We started stompin in our air force ones.
Flea markets. Places of color and light, texture and culture, stuffed to the brim with things I either want or need to own. Vintage scarves? Yes ma’am! I’m so ready to take on the world’s trash and use it for my own enjoyment.
The dekalb farmers market is really cool. Trader joes kinda wishes it was a market but its not. The stock market is lame and boring. I really like the movie Coming to America and the way it depicts the stock market, thats becuase that was eddie murphy in his prime. I like hamburgers!
The market was bustling with people. The vendors were all full with people crowding each other to get the best prices. You could smell the sweat and the different odors of all the people in the air. With sweet perfume from the scented ladies, to the revolting odor of blood from the butchers. This was where you lived, it was truly the one place in this small town full with life.
I had run through this kind of routine plenty of times before. Then into the meat products, and then to the cereals. And the milk. And all the other dairy products. Check, check, check. Yadda yadda.
It’s kind of mundane, really. It’s really repetitive. I just, get what I need, and then get out. Where’s the happiness out of it? What am I really here for? I mean, I don’t see an aisle to buy happiness. Reminds me of life in a way.
The market was bustling with ruby red apples and shiny scaled fish, painted porcelain china and handmade quilted blankets.
But more diverse than the products that the vendors promoted, were the customers hungry for the best and the freshest and the most beautiful.
These were the people who came by with drastically different desires than the next, all heading their own way and minding their own business.
Then they’d be back next week for more.
fishes have markets like humans do under the sea, away from the land animals. inside their markets, there is caviar babies and parrot fish poop. fish are most likely the dirtiest animals you will ever meet. cannibals and degenerates, the lot of them.
The market was filled with heads. Everywhere I turned I saw another head. Another face. Another person. Another me. There were dreams, hopes, doubts, pains, worries, memories in that head…
So many heads…
A market. Filled with colors, sounds, smells. People. A place where business is done, where culture meets people and friend meets friend. The foundation on which all cities are based, and therefore all civilization. Creation.
today i went to st. lawrence’s market to pick up some cold cuts and cheese, and maybe some rhubarb jam, but instead i found myself in the lineup for an eggplant and veal sandwich
The farmers market downtown on the bluff that I never went to this summer. It’s there every year, yet I have never taken the little time needed to go take a walk around there.
“Meet me at the market.” Call me a romantic but that isn’t a catch phrase. You kinda lost me at hello but maybe you’ll catch me at goodbye. I’m holding onto something but I can’t say why. All I know for sure is that “Meet me at the market” just won’t do.
Currency, products, interaction, commotion, karma, community, aid, destruction, anger, haggle; these are all things that can describe a market. But do they honestly describe it? Can we honestly say to ourselves that a market can be described in one word away from itself?
I watched her from the shadows of an exotic bat stall. She was perusing through bottles and bottles of colourful liquids. Some bubbling, some smoking, and all of them seemed to emit a peculiar sparkle. What did she need them for?
strolling through the crowded marker place, my nostrols filled with the smells of meats, rotten vegetables and steamed bread. people pushed against my bags as they rushed past me to get to their homes.
I went to the market today and I saw him. He was in the produce section looking through the fruit. I wanted to walk up to him and say hi, but I was afraid to. How could he like a girl like me? There was just no way that he could. But with all the courage I could muster, iImarched myself over there and said, “Hello.”
farmers market. maybe this is because I was there yesterday. I see stalls and fresh produce. Fruits, veggies, meats. Even chicken feet. Oh and honey! especially the honey sticks. And food, fresh baked pies, best calamari ever and perogies.
This one time I was in the supermarket with my mom in the checkout line and I was holding a package of donuts. I forgot about them even though they were in my hand and walked out of the store with it unpaid for. I felt really bad.
I went to the market, expecting to find wonderful fresh vegetables and treats. Yet, I found something else entirely. There was a raw excitement in the air. I was drawn to you and you didnt even see me. I wonder what that means, I wonder if you’re my destiny and I just let you walk away.
The market, where everyone goes to buy shit, where you can find everything you need, or almost. there is the supermarket, the most bs market filled with lies and garbage, where you can buy anything, even a life. Of course thats where everyone goes..
i was in the market not long ago with my father, my now half-handed father, buying his vodka and things for dinner. I don’t know what hurt me more, even still, the hand or the vodka. We all want the best things for our parents really. Seeing him struggle though the day to day hurt worse than most any pain I have ever felt. I wanted to wrap him in cotton and take him away someplace where he would never be sad again.
Buy and sell. What do I have to give? What to I want to leave with?
What can I bargain with you for, in order to get something I can’t articulate?
My mouth agape, trying to tell you what you’ve got to give, for free to you, that comes with your every breath, that I’ve been dreaming of getting all my life.
Something about being human, the market of you and me. Sell me all you’ve got, and you can take all the fruits of my simplest expression.
a market can be many things. it can be a place where you get good or other goods that are not edible. a market can often be a place where you can find good very good deals on merchandise.
For some reason, market reminds me of the festival of nations. We go there every year, me and my family. I love it there. I love all the foods and going around to each “country” to get a stamp on your passport.. too bad I kind of outgrew doing that…
there’s people around, the smell of fish permeating the air and a small child cying in the distance. Where is this child? Why is she crying? What can be done to fix her woes? Suddenly I trip over the fruit stall trying to get to her and the vendor yells at me.
Markets are pretty cool. They are a place in which people may gather to make sales transactions or to browse for things that may not be that necessary. The stock market is fun. You can trade different shares in different companies. That’s pretty cool. You can get pretty rich by doing that. My grandpa did it once. Potato.
not on the market anymore, so my entire path is changed…. living with you, loving you, it’s all i want i think… when im 26, but im 23.
The market store across the street is one of the busiest in town. Such local markets are great for people who do not want to hassle with big businesses like Wal-Mart.
to market to market where people live, love and trade. in apples. or wine. a verb, a noun and a feeling.
busy, boisterous. places where bombs are dropped.
place where money rules.
Uh, you suck ¬¬
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lol
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more lol
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Thomas did it again.
On Sunday, November 24th, 2014, at approximately 9:02 AM, Thomas Tiklis stepped through the reinforced doorway of his basement duplex to attend his biweekly grocery run down at 24th and Gratiot’s own historical second floor market, Mikhail n’ Sons’ Food n’ Stuff.
one day I went to the market to buy a loaf of bread. I met a cute little asian woman that insisted on telling me her lifes story. I sat quetrly as she went on and on, and then suddenly there was a loud bang that came from the ladies rest room. The people around looked shocked and appaled to find that all of the toilets were overflowing, creating a tidal wave that flooded the isles.
fruits and nuts and stocks and women and markers and carts and india and turkey and spices and cloth and wool and people and people and people with colors and textures and sounds and smells and feels and dirt. but also that real awesome good feeling of happiness.
Markets are a place to exchange goods. It can be used to determine the maximum consumer and producer surplus to form community surplus. It is what you title a supply and demand graph in economics. It is also a place of cultural exchange. Lots of people in colorful dresses.
people go to shop here….
they can be crowded in most cuntries like india…..usually lively in the early mornings or late evenings
markets will have many vendors selling various wares
depending upon what u want or need o that part of the market place.
now ays markets aheplaced by malls or supermarkets..
and hence they are prevalent in mostly small towns and cities.
I went to the farmers market one day. All I wanted was a box of strawberries but all of the booth’s were completely out. Disappointed, I began my mission to find those tasty, delicious, juicy red happiness. You see, strawberries give me energy and without them I would die.
I saw a little bird in the market place today. I dropped all my shopping bags and chased it for as long as I could but it had fluttered away. It was a vivid yellow colour, I remember it well. I saw it again from the corner of my eye and ran toward it like that of a child running toward the Ice Cream van. But alas, it had flown away before I grasped the yellow bundle of joy. Woe is me, woe is life, woe is the market place.
i wish there was a farmer’s market somewhere in this godforsaken desert.
Chester strolled along the market square. Seven cheese sellers had congregated at this particular spot. The sausage and vegetable merchants had moved across town as the cadre of purveyors of curded victuals had taken over. This was good as Chester was lactose tolerant, and now that he’d been elected president of the zoning board, cheese would soon be the only food available within the city limits.
Yesterday I went to the market and who did I see, none other than Nelly himself! Well, I walked up to this washed up son of a bitch and I said “Oh woo, is it hot in here?” he laughed and revealed a nice set of grillz. We started stompin in our air force ones.
Flea markets. Places of color and light, texture and culture, stuffed to the brim with things I either want or need to own. Vintage scarves? Yes ma’am! I’m so ready to take on the world’s trash and use it for my own enjoyment.
The dekalb farmers market is really cool. Trader joes kinda wishes it was a market but its not. The stock market is lame and boring. I really like the movie Coming to America and the way it depicts the stock market, thats becuase that was eddie murphy in his prime. I like hamburgers!
The market was bustling with people. The vendors were all full with people crowding each other to get the best prices. You could smell the sweat and the different odors of all the people in the air. With sweet perfume from the scented ladies, to the revolting odor of blood from the butchers. This was where you lived, it was truly the one place in this small town full with life.
Fruits? Check. Vegetables? Check.
I had run through this kind of routine plenty of times before. Then into the meat products, and then to the cereals. And the milk. And all the other dairy products. Check, check, check. Yadda yadda.
It’s kind of mundane, really. It’s really repetitive. I just, get what I need, and then get out. Where’s the happiness out of it? What am I really here for? I mean, I don’t see an aisle to buy happiness. Reminds me of life in a way.
The market was bustling with ruby red apples and shiny scaled fish, painted porcelain china and handmade quilted blankets.
But more diverse than the products that the vendors promoted, were the customers hungry for the best and the freshest and the most beautiful.
These were the people who came by with drastically different desires than the next, all heading their own way and minding their own business.
Then they’d be back next week for more.
fishes have markets like humans do under the sea, away from the land animals. inside their markets, there is caviar babies and parrot fish poop. fish are most likely the dirtiest animals you will ever meet. cannibals and degenerates, the lot of them.
The market was filled with heads. Everywhere I turned I saw another head. Another face. Another person. Another me. There were dreams, hopes, doubts, pains, worries, memories in that head…
So many heads…
A market. Filled with colors, sounds, smells. People. A place where business is done, where culture meets people and friend meets friend. The foundation on which all cities are based, and therefore all civilization. Creation.
today i went to st. lawrence’s market to pick up some cold cuts and cheese, and maybe some rhubarb jam, but instead i found myself in the lineup for an eggplant and veal sandwich
You heart should never be “on the market”
The farmers market downtown on the bluff that I never went to this summer. It’s there every year, yet I have never taken the little time needed to go take a walk around there.
“Meet me at the market.” Call me a romantic but that isn’t a catch phrase. You kinda lost me at hello but maybe you’ll catch me at goodbye. I’m holding onto something but I can’t say why. All I know for sure is that “Meet me at the market” just won’t do.
Currency, products, interaction, commotion, karma, community, aid, destruction, anger, haggle; these are all things that can describe a market. But do they honestly describe it? Can we honestly say to ourselves that a market can be described in one word away from itself?
I watched her from the shadows of an exotic bat stall. She was perusing through bottles and bottles of colourful liquids. Some bubbling, some smoking, and all of them seemed to emit a peculiar sparkle. What did she need them for?
strolling through the crowded marker place, my nostrols filled with the smells of meats, rotten vegetables and steamed bread. people pushed against my bags as they rushed past me to get to their homes.
I went to the market today and I saw him. He was in the produce section looking through the fruit. I wanted to walk up to him and say hi, but I was afraid to. How could he like a girl like me? There was just no way that he could. But with all the courage I could muster, iImarched myself over there and said, “Hello.”
farmers market. maybe this is because I was there yesterday. I see stalls and fresh produce. Fruits, veggies, meats. Even chicken feet. Oh and honey! especially the honey sticks. And food, fresh baked pies, best calamari ever and perogies.
This one time I was in the supermarket with my mom in the checkout line and I was holding a package of donuts. I forgot about them even though they were in my hand and walked out of the store with it unpaid for. I felt really bad.
I went to the market, expecting to find wonderful fresh vegetables and treats. Yet, I found something else entirely. There was a raw excitement in the air. I was drawn to you and you didnt even see me. I wonder what that means, I wonder if you’re my destiny and I just let you walk away.
The market, where everyone goes to buy shit, where you can find everything you need, or almost. there is the supermarket, the most bs market filled with lies and garbage, where you can buy anything, even a life. Of course thats where everyone goes..
i was in the market not long ago with my father, my now half-handed father, buying his vodka and things for dinner. I don’t know what hurt me more, even still, the hand or the vodka. We all want the best things for our parents really. Seeing him struggle though the day to day hurt worse than most any pain I have ever felt. I wanted to wrap him in cotton and take him away someplace where he would never be sad again.
Buy and sell. What do I have to give? What to I want to leave with?
What can I bargain with you for, in order to get something I can’t articulate?
My mouth agape, trying to tell you what you’ve got to give, for free to you, that comes with your every breath, that I’ve been dreaming of getting all my life.
Something about being human, the market of you and me. Sell me all you’ve got, and you can take all the fruits of my simplest expression.
a market can be many things. it can be a place where you get good or other goods that are not edible. a market can often be a place where you can find good very good deals on merchandise.
For some reason, market reminds me of the festival of nations. We go there every year, me and my family. I love it there. I love all the foods and going around to each “country” to get a stamp on your passport.. too bad I kind of outgrew doing that…
there’s people around, the smell of fish permeating the air and a small child cying in the distance. Where is this child? Why is she crying? What can be done to fix her woes? Suddenly I trip over the fruit stall trying to get to her and the vendor yells at me.