Walking among the many stalls in the Portland Saturday Market I felt free to explore without fear of standing out. It was a wonderful experience.
I wandered by a wand maker, a candle stick maker, a spoon-bender, and a stone carver. I ate beef empanadas, pumpkin empanadas, chocolate covered pork rinds, and Cajun caramel. I drank chai tea, pumpkin tea and apricot cider. My eyes feasted on rainbow chain mail, air plants in colored glass, mini kites and silk scarves. It was a sensory bazaar and everyone took credit cards.
I celebrate the body eclectic. The writhing mass of humanity that gathers at street markets every where, their wares on display and their freak flag flying, these are my people. I beat the drum alongside their morning glory of artisanal commerce and revel in the smells of unity. These are my people, my tribe, and my clan.