i put the basket down. having travelled all the way from the sea, it was a miracle the oysters were still alive, but alive they were, wriggling in and out of their shells, knowing their fate. it was still early light and i sat there, watching the oysters, feeling a faint haze creep over along the river. from the sea to the land. lazy haze, carrying news of whales and mermaids and stray dolphins. coming back with stories of deer and elves, told by a madman who lives in a cave. behind me the market wakes up from late sleep. fuzzy. unwilling. too bloody early, it sniffs, too fishy. stop your daydreaming and come over, it tells me. come over, sell your oysters and buzz off.
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