Something Cozy / Щось затишне
Recently I've developed a hard-to-keep-secret obsession with farmers market, and I am enjoying every moment of it. It seems that I've never derived so much satisfaction from waking up early, walking up the stairs on Arizona Avenue and entering the magical world that unfolds in Downtown Santa Monica every Wednesday morning. I buy a few peaches and a cup of chocolate macadamia coffee and run around with my phone camera, spying on the life around me, absorbing colors, smells and sounds. I marvel at the buckets overflowing with stock flowers and buttercups. I meditate on grapefruits, tight with juice and glowing in the morning sunlight. I peak at the big fragrant loaves bread, resting heavily in baskets covered with unbleached linen. I get lost in the deep greenery of the bundles of spinach, arugula and Roman lettuce. Most of all, however, I revel in observing people. Thin elderly ladies carrying canvas totes filled with leeks and artichokes. Sturdy Latino fami