Literature
Eagles and Angels
The shallow woven basket jostles against my hip as I leave the market's careful arched covering, leaving the sound of the noisy merchants and hawkers and buyers behind in the dusty, dim, light of the open building behind and step out into the harsh light of the sun. I squint against the light, my eyes unused to its brightness after so long in the market and the burning of my eyes just reminds me of the burning on my arm as I hold the basket filled with the night's dinner; fish, vegetables, a few fresh herbs and a pair of lemons which I'd had to practically rip out of the merchant's hands for he was so hard to bargain with. I shift the basket