Clair de Lune

12:10 p.m.

The atmosphere was different this time, but still nice. I ordered the chicken breast sandwich. Outside the children played their little recital songs on an electric piano. The kids playing their little toons was definitely not jazz, but it was sweet. My mother and I talked while we listened. One song in particular struck out to me, it was an older kid playing now, he played better than the rest. He begun to play "Clair de Lune." I froze. My coffee I had just started drinking was now burning me up from the inside. It was making me too warm. Listening to those keys played so well timed, with the right amount of pressure, my eyes started to water. I couldn't help this sudden flow of emotions. I had to hold back tears. The song brought back old memories of feelings I once felt last listening to this song. Hearing the sounds, it was as if I was no longer sitting on this balcony, no longer day. It was as if I was sitting atop a silent train, feeling the wind blow all around me, village lights of buildings blur past me. I needed to hear this.

12:55 p.m.

I found myself wandering store isles with my mother. We looked at everything, each product with wonder and interest. I tried a couple samples, but no need to buy anything. Following the isles, they led a path to the fish market. This area had lower ceiling and lower lighting. This might be my new favorite area of the store. Either side of this enclosed path had fish mongers, littered with people auctioning. Walking down you can smell the sea, but not overwhelmingly strong, these are finer specimen. Fish lay cut perfectly in rows, octopus sprawled out in the most violating manner, the colors of different aquatic flesh pained the insides of their glass accommodated morgues. Some of these unfortunate creatures of the deep come beautifully stuffed with lemons, various greens and wrapped in twine. It was a sight. At the end of the fish market, I became dismayed. I craved more of this environment. I simply did not want it to end. Come up with a dish as an excuse to come back, I thought. 

The fruit section wasn't much different, a great deal of fruit lay about me. I didn't know there were different variations of bananas. The ones on the last row looked as if evolution forcibly smashed its precious banana into a fatter aloof version of itself. I bet there's seeds in this one. A lady shovels shredded ice from a mobile trough onto a row of juice. It adds to the appeal. Above the table of tomatoes hangs a globe with a yellow wrapped sign just out in front of it saying "tomato world." What a jocular exhibit. Leaving the store, I walk out with just two items, a fruity spiraled snack and shortbread imported from Scotland. My mother enjoys the shortbread, so I figured they're worth a try.