The Souk

The sun begins to rise increasingly outpootring sparkling rays of light over the snowy-white marble octagonal minaret. The bakeries would be working and most of the workers sweating by the heat of ovens. The uncountable frabjous flocks of birds were overjoyed due to the early morning dew, a refreshing dew that creates a sense of euphoria. They offer jubilation to the passers's ears. With an attractive smile and a gleeful mood nothing could hinder Atreus from a splendid morning walk in the souk's corners. Some moments later the weather decided to be in a boundless connection with the bakeries' ovens. There was an old merchant riding a dark brown skinny donkey as the water trough shone glamorously under the old men's dowdy and shabby burnoose. He took groggirly a convoluted worn white handkerchief from his pocket, Ran it slowly in his wrinkled forehead dazedly, then wiped his neck. It was quiet boiling and humid, for about 41 Fahrenheit. It was an asphalt-melting weather. There were cook shops, icy lemonade stands, green tea-stalls and stationary grocers in many different corners of the old souk. The little boys were looking accurately at the skilful jugglers and listening minutely to the proffesional story and fortune tellers. In the zigzagged path bazaar of the potters and multi-colored turbans shouted the sellers repeatedly for the passers. There were some unseen faces covered with veils and women with henna-stained hands near the merchants of parched grains and dried fruit. In the left corner there was a middle-aged white-men who was clicking and tinkling silver coins near a magnificent fountain who played with energetic cadences and wonderful rhythms. The fountain was the symbol of the souk, it was a pillar from the glorious past and an emblem of prosperity. Another old men was carrying in his right gaunt shoulder a tremendous amount of reddish fezzes. At the front door of the mosque people were removing their shoes and placing them on the entryway's rack. There was giant row upon row of red fluffy carpets inside the mosque which is led by an imam who reads the sermon daily for about twenty years. Most of the street vendors were exchanging jests and jokes happily with people hither and thither. The blabbermouth beldames and harridans stopped by the fountain to gossip like a gathered bunch of rubbernecks, catching glimpses and rolling their vicious eyes as other boys stopped to quench their thirst and move forward to the oasis' road. The air is extremely polluted due to the petrol cars which parked halfway up the narrow alley, shooting a long misty funnel of vapors out and creating a musty atmosphere. Some girls were throwing themselves amazingly on each other's arms in front of the brazen cup sellers. By the end of the souk there were a criss-crossed cemetery full of fig and olive trees in every corner. And a round black bowls stuffed with grains and water for the sparrows of passage. The souk was teeming with humanity and everything was in harmony.