This is closer to what I was hoping to get yesterday but still not what I’d meant to accomplish at the start…
Madrigar laces a canopy to the frame at the front of his stall then tightens the iridescent purple fabric by snugging up the bar that wedges it out from the back wall. His chappi stall languishes like a cat in a window. Comfortably seen and easily attended by all.
The stall’s registered designation in the Vendor Bureau at the Merchant Ministry is SB. South side; second stall. But here in Run Dark Ally, the grand dam of all Tropulan’s ally fairs, it’s known eponomously as Madrigar’s. A cook’s assitant looking for fresh caught trout would find them on ice from Dromie’s at NE. A guitarist looking for newly attenuated strings would pick them out from Spring House at SH. In Run Dark stallmen, veteran patrons, and signage all cry out names with designations. But never Madrigar at SB. Only, solely, Madrigar’s.
In other alley fairs the best spot—sometimes the SB designation—is known as the madrigar. At newly installed fairs vendors cluck like wansi hens bidding for the stall designation they think will become that ally’s madrigar. Vendors plead and beg and offer to pay Madrigar to assess a new fair, but he refuses. In a confused tone he insists he doesn’t sell information only chappi. So, he recommends a crisply carved luck medallion he obtained from an artisan in the Narrow Door district or a jagged locator stone gouged from a quarry wall only a fortnight ago. Maybe these will aid you he says.
Madrigar borrows the broom from inside the backdoor of the draper’s shop his stall cozies up to and sweeps the grime and rainwater into a nearby drain. He nods at Musi, his neigbor at SA, when they meet eyes, but neither speaks yet. Musi boils water for tea and steamed milk. Soon the stallmen and women from the west end of Run Dark—some as deep as NL or SJ—will arrive for their breakfast meeting.
Madrigar laces a canopy to the frame at the front of his stall then tightens the iridescent purple fabric by snugging up the bar that wedges it out from the back wall. His chappi stall languishes like a cat in a window.
The stall’s registered designation in the Vendor Bureau at the Merchant Ministry is SB. South side; second stall. But here in Run Dark Ally, the grand dam of all Tropulan’s ally fairs, it’s known eponomously as Madrigar. A cook’s assitant looking for fresh caught trout would find them on ice at Dromie’s at NE. A musician looking
In other alley fairs the best spot—usually the SB designation—is known as the madrigar.
Infrequent Run Dark patrons might ask directions to a particular
in the second space back from the entrance on the sunny south side of the alley. Everyone sees his
This is completely unfinished. I just copied and pasted when I realized what time it was.
Writing on the phone again today while the laptop runs a rather lengthy and verbose chkdsk. I’m a little concerned what I’ll find when it finally shows me my desktop. Lots more deleting of index files than I’d have expected to see.
Everyone is sick, getting sick, or helping the sick here at the homestead this past week and weekend. That won’t pass till the end of this week based on past experience. An extra reason to wish Friday a speedy arrival.
I’m going to transcribe a bit of recent conversation rather than create anything ad hoc this morning.
Husband and wife have just been watching Apollo Anton Ohno win a bronze in some version of short track speed skating. Wife ducks her head to play Scrabble on her phone while husband continues his TV trance. A promo for the upcming and seriously dull ice dancing comes on.
“This would be more fun to watch if they were naked,” he says.
She doesn’t look up. “Speedskating?”
Quickly working backwards through what she’s just watched but still not looking up for context, “Ski jumping?”
“Noo. Ice dancing.” Trying not to imagine naked speed skating or that Swiss phenome planked out in the air getting 20 more feet than any other jumper the husband goes on to say, “Probably they’d all be more fun naked.”