Today we bought a new stove (to replace the waterlogged old one) from a man selling all sorts of electrical items out of a shop on Belleville. I entered with a rose, and was immediately transfixed by a wall of televisions broadcasting video-clips of East-European pop ballads - all close-ups of teeth, doves and hair in slow motion. But I snapped out of my reverie in time to take the stove from the salesman: it was the display item that he sold us, wrapped in nothing more than an oversized plastic bag. Our hands fumbled over themselves as he passed on the bag. Then, when the transaction was over, I gave the man a rose. At that moment a little person who had been hovering beside the counter burst into shrill laughter that kept reverberating as we walked out of the store.
...for a seller of stoves - 2012: a year of stopping
02 November 2006 @ 10:00 pm
...for a seller of stoves