The Winter Markets

"Yes, it's certainly a highlight of the year. Do you like it?"

"It's perfectly grand! I've never seen anything like this. Look here, what is this merchant selling?"

"Assorted wood carvings and children's toys. Most of the merchants here make their own crafts to sell."

"Did this merchant make all of these?"

"Very likely."

"That is remarkable. They are just lovely. But where is the merchant?"

"He's buried somewhere in the center of the stand."

"Oh, but I can barely see him. Isn't he afraid someone might sneak by and steal things from the sides? At home, there would never be such a clustered and overflowing stand. Is the city really so safe?"

"Don't be silly. Naturally, there are thieves. But a merchant here, my dear, flaunts his wealth and success through how thief-prone his stand appears. It shows that he is so wealthy, he could have all of these wares stolen from right under his nose, and he would still be well off enough not even to care."

"Wow... it's so different here."

He shrugged. "It is all for show, and keeping face. You may see every other merchant with a blind spot in his stand as wide as Northwind Sea, but the truth is that any handful of them might barely afford to have a small trinket or two stolen. However," he waved his hand dismissively along the long chain of busy, wooden huts, "They are a proud folk and would rather suffer eating peasant's bread every once in a while than take a nick off of their reputations."

They continued down the avenue, fragrant with the mingled smells of cinnamon spices, hot chocolates, fresh pies and roasted meats.

(Umm, I still can't decide which notebook at the bookstore I want to buy yet, so I'm jotting some things down here instead of on some loose sheet of paper that will clutter up my desk later.)