Write a descriptive essay on a Sunday market?

Answer 1

A Sunday market is a bustling hub of activity, filled with vibrant colors, enticing aromas, and the melodic sounds of vendors calling out their wares. The market is a sensory overload, with rows of stalls offering a diverse array of goods, from fresh produce to handmade crafts. As shoppers meander through the crowded aisles, they are enveloped in a tapestry of sights and sounds that evoke a sense of community and cultural richness. The market serves as a meeting place for locals and tourists alike, fostering a sense of connection and shared experience.

Answer 2

"Stillness of the dawn was displaced by the scheduled game of the morning gusts. Pages of newsletters and Kit-Kat wrappers flew around in typhoon-like motions scraping against a banner, which was crucified against a brick- wall using four large black nails, expanded and compressed like a heart, displaying 'Sell it Market Place.'

From the edge, the faint noise of an engine was stopping and starting repetitively. Eventually, from a bird-view over the steep gradient, a Ford car sluggishly forwarded. Despite the Ford's early arrival, the ear-splitting buzzer of the Vauxhall in its rear view roared in rage. It repeatedly did this to bully the Ford further up the steep hill to an empty space within the car-park.

Once the quarrel was over, the cars tried to park with absolute accuracy between the two yellow parking lines in order to prevent any costly collisions. This procedure recurred until, within a matter of time, the yellow lines were ceased to be seen. As they were infested by a population of streamlined cars with only a few reservations for the Ford-like cars which came earlier on the day.

The revolution of cars came to a halt, and soon was replaced by the hustle and bustle of modern life.

Customers emerged towards the automatic double glass-doors which slid; welcoming customers by a warm breeze emitted by the immersion heaters mantled behind the core doors of the market.

A girl, dressed in a Mother Fairy costume, abraded the stone floors with her rigid sandals. Refusing to enter the market, she sat down on the frost floors, crossing her legs securely together whilst her mother powerfully yanked her from her shoulder with Stallion force in the direction of the cash machine. She then burst into tears, as she glanced at her 'magic' wand; which was seized away by her mother who held it with a firm grip. She then swirled her head, and glanced within the translucent doors of the market opposite of her. To her surprise, the Fairy Queen toy rested against a chair, facing her in the same direction. The girl, oblivious of her mother's previous lectures about good behaviour, stared at the Fairy Queen with mother and daughter affection as she waited for a sign of numbness within her mother's hands.

She broke free, running closer to the divine force which emanated from the Fairy Queen.

She hugged her, asking the Fairy Queen whether she could borrow her wand, which pointed diagonally at the ceiling, for a 'trick'. Automatically presuming the acceptance of the Fairy Queen, she adjusted the wand, pointing it at her mother's figure in the hope that it will magically cast a freezing spell. Unfortunately, the girl's spells have failed despite the spirit that summoned within her during the cast of the spell. Her distraught mother then, quite grimly, reclaimed her daughter's consciousness, with a tight grip and a few sharp words as they slouched towards the fruit-stall.

At the fruit stall, an elderly couple strolled from crate to crate. They rigorously examined every spot on every strawberry and every blemish on every apple. Then, during their outrage by the ridiculous prices which were displayed on slippery flags, the man attempted to negotiate the prices with the shop-keeper who, during his serving to other customers, ignored the old man's natter and gave him a smug look. The elderly couple, drowned by dissatisfaction inverted their vision away towards the south hoping to find a bargain.

South of the fruit-shop was cluttered by typical roaming children who all stood alongside the chocolate nibbling squirrels.

All this fuss accustomed around a small smart artificial fountain of sprinkling dark-brown chocolate. People behind it advanced in dignified lines, witnessing its other-worldly live view. Even the children watched; surprisingly ceaseless of any discussion. As they scratched against their scalps, trying to comprehend how this 'thing' might work, simultaneously watching customers pick their choices from an array of ordinary everyday fruits and cakes.

Next in the queue was a youth dressed in under-sized jeans and hair which completely encapsulated his forehead. After an awkward pause of angus-eyeing the choices layered on the table, he skilfully slid his card-like hands inside his fashionably-padded pockets. Moving them up and down like an ice globe in need of resetting. Once the sounds of the coins came to existence; he battled against his pocket, eventually sliding and captivating a thick one pound coin within his left hand. He then began to pick his choices, pausing, and then humming between every choice.

Torture began after picking his choices, as the skewer penetrated the heart of every fruit, and then, without remorse, plunged under a pool of chocolate - suffocating every hole of the strawberry.

He left the delirious atmosphere summoned by the presence of the children. Then, intrigued by the sight of his chocolate dropping onto the plastic plate, he dismantled the fruit from the skewer, mixing it with melting chocolate. After eating three of his choices, he had to face his last - a chocolate-covered-pineapple. He took a bite. The juice of the pineapple diffused, making the youth's lips red and moisture. He pouted, composing a popping tune by his lips which reacted in reflex to the sourness induced by the Pineapple Juice. After the effect was over, he made his way towards the east, looking round cautiously for a friend or two.

The atmosphere in the eastern part of the market was bustling with activity. Entrance to the Fish market was clearly indicated by a header which flickered with varying colours of the spectrum.

Walking past the entrance, the 'Fresh Fish' stall was the customers' first destiny, where they were welcomed by the spotlights vividly highlighting the daily massacre of the gawping fishes which were laid on top of ice. With Christmas hollies used to decorate the outlining surrounding the ice. Seemingly used as a sign of tribute by the fish monger.

The fish monger wore a distinctive stripy black and white apron animated with a logo of a 'happy' clip-art fish aligned at the centre. He stood, serving an old lady which requested one of his 'best fresh salmons'. In answer to her appeal, he extended his left bare hand further into the chills of the chamber; grabbing a random salmon from the display of fisher. He then laid the fish's body on a rectangular utensil board, displaying the history of previous massacres by scratches inflicted by a knife. Grabbing his razor sharp knife within his right hand, he compressed the fish's body with his left, mutilating the fish. The knife ran horizontally through the scales, slithering and exposing the flesh as it made its way to the other end. This was followed by three equal vertical slices. Three fleshless pieces were then accumulated; wrapped and compressed by a paper which soaked in fresh sea-water, as it came in contact with the nude slices of the fish. They were then handed back to the old lady, who put them under her shoulder. Opening her purse and then dropping three one pound coins against the counter. She left and then headed towards the weighty doors of the eastern exit.

Different mature people stood swapping the joys of being humble by holding the heavy exit doors for people who entering and exiting.

Outside the market, only streamlined cars were parked, with some which waited outside having open roofs as the mild shadowy shine of the sunset subsided.

Standing in the shade was a mother and her young boy, both cluttered around in a diameter of shopping bags. The young boy seemed particularly fond of his new Spider-Man toy, being the only bag he held. He swung its large rectangular box in fast-speed windmill motions - trying to cool his mother with the breeze of the air as they waited in boredom for the taxi."