amanda shulman

By Amanda Shulman The hum of routine chaos wraps me in its cloak of familiar excitement. Vibrant colors, sharp shouts, rich smells, and bustling people fill the space both in front of and behind me. Cries of “deux boîte de cerise pour trois euros” and “poulet roti, trop chaud!” catch my attention, drawing me into the homes of their respective callers. My regular stroll under the white canopies of my most beloved Parisian open-air market is my favorite part of each day. Stalls of the finest produce I’ve ever seen are displayed in full glory; vegetables lying like precious gems on checkered...


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