Walked across the Arno this afternoon, to the 'good side',

and enjoyed browsing through the flea market that was set up

today in the funky neighborhood around Santo Spirito.

One guy was selling nothing but used, practically new motorino helmets;  hmmmm. . . 

One stall gave off such a powerful magnetic pull: old, beautiful things, elegant,

from Firenze and beyond from long ago. Wow. And the old crone, sitting amongst them,

the seller, could no doubt read minds, as I surely felt mine being picked. 

I am still trying to find a potted flower, or even cut, but did not today from those there,

but did buy and eat some yummy polenta "fries" from a food cart, 

a girl reminiscent of Ginger proudly selling them.