marché aux puces

Ah, flea markets.  I can't help but love 'em.  I love the sweet residual stink of old stories, the sneeze-inducing dust from strangers' attics, the rickety-or-regal displays that sellers think just might tempt passersby into slowing.

A stretch from our door, one can visit a marché aux puces.  Twice a week, vendors of possibly-precious-to-someone baubles, trinkets, wares, clothes and furniture line the entirety of the Plaine de Plainpalais, a barren red gravel kite-shaped field used for events (such as Knie, regular readers!).

Here are a few glimpses caught on the way to the ludothèque (more on that soon) yesterday.

Grit-beauty, at its finest.