During a fire drill at the university, and at the very end of the semester, I took advantage of the forced evacuation from my office to wander over to the farmer's market, which takes place on campus each Thursday. Despite the market’s having just a handful of vendors, a varied fare is featured: Belgian waffles, organic produce, pita bread and hummus, kettle corn, tamales – and assorted cakes and cupcakes at a stand called Kingdom Cake.
Last summer, in front of the Centre Pompidou in Paris, assorted street performers and vendors were hoping to make a living from their various acts and talents.
At a San Francisco supermarket, a Latina employee had embellished her work outfit -- a dark apron, sneakers, and keys draped from a long cord around her neck -- with a bright-red shirt beneath a black-and-white flower-patterned one. Atop her head, she had pinned a large white flower, which seemed a celebratory touch.
“Casi olvidé,” I told her, “I almost forgot that today is Cinco de Mayo! I love your festive look.”
Yang, Q., 