Flowers in the snow

Sapteleisaseleicucopiiiii… Saaaapteleeei saaaaseeelei cucopi… Sapte lei … It sounds like one word which is said on one breath, in the same time, from different directions. It’s not a whisper, nor a scream, nor a song. And in the same time it’s all of this. This specific mantra is repeated by sellers in the gipsy market.




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We are surrounded by men in cowboys hats. Women in long, colourful skirt are looking like exotic flowers blooming in the snow. A small, dark haired man starts to dance and singing to attract clients attention. Indian is playing on the keyboard and fife “ethnic music from Peru”. In the back, above mountains of clothes and shoes, melting snow and grey puddles looking like smalls, dirties lakes – there is overpass with cars and bus in rush. They are appearing and disappearing so fast, that you don’t even have time to blink.

But here, between Gipsies, Indians, clothes, shoes, ski equipment time is passing slowly on the trading and small talks.

– Polonia? Dzien dobry (Good morning) I was in Bielsko Biala. Do you need something?

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