Editor's Note: Sad fascination with forgotten photos
I spent some time last weekend at one of my favorite places – the flea market.
I love the randomness of the flea market. Next to a nun selling pastries is a lady hawking Avon, just down from a carpenter selling reclaimed furniture and an artist selling sculptures.
Some, if not many, of the vendors are there every month. There’s the one we call Fossil Guy, whose items for sale include a bizzare array of animal artifacts, battlefield memorabilia and ancient items like Roman coins and jewelry. Then there’s the lady who sells jewelry made of silver spoons and the booth with artistic wall decor made from scraps of old license plates.
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