A Yard Sale or a Flea Market Paragraph

Every Sunday at Jahangir Boulevard a flea market unravels that lasts from early morning till late at night. After being cajoled multiple times by my friends to give it a try, last Sunday I decided to visit it with my mother. We arrived at noon and were astounded that it was difficult to find a parking spot. It seemed as though the entire city had decided to flock to the flea market that day. Shoppers of every age and size could be seen browsing through the stalls and clutching multicolored shopping bags.

Soon we had joined the sea of shoppers as we strolled from one stall to another. At one of the makeshift stalls a young boy was selling unstitched floral patterned fabric. He wasn’t one to be underestimated because of his age. Every potential customer was showered with advice to buy fabric from him because it would look beautiful on her. At other times he also resorted to saying that his fabric catered to the latest fashion. He suavely managed to lure customers all the while himself dressed in an unsightly, parrot green shirt.

As we moved around to other stalls, we realized that this bazaar was nothing short of an open-air shopping mall. A large range of items were being sold ranging from electronics to linen to books and magazines. To my delight, I found stalls laden with second hand novels being sold at a throwaway price. I bought several novels that would keep me occupied for the next few weeks at least. Meanwhile, my mother had discovered that fresh fruits and vegetables were available in galore. She soon busied herself with bargaining over prices of mangoes and peaches and so forth. A few minutes later I had visions of being fed salads for the next month as my mother happily clutched five bags of fresh fruits and vegetables.

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Short Paragraph on Chicken Farming

As I was giving her a helping hand with the shopping bags two young boys appeared, each holding a huge weaved basket in his hand. Both oft help us carry our groceries in exchange for a small amount of money. Since we were already weighed down by our shopping bags we agreed to let the boys carry them. As we headed towards our car I caught a whiff of spicy food. I turned in the direction of the aroma and saw a makeshift food court where snacks and beverages were being sold. The atmosphere at the flea market was nothing short of a festival. Both my mother and I were pleasantly surprised to have enjoyed our shopping experience there. Needless to say the next time I suggested going to the flea market, my mother didn’t need convincing.

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