from Within " Cup-a-Joe " to drink. from the other side of West King Street two blond little girls selling yourself 'to passers-cold, jumping around a table full of plastic cups. For them and 'a game. After taking my cup of cappuccino, sit at a table not too clean. The local and 'small and narrow and indeed, not so comfortable. On the wall 'hung a racket fly swatter. And a guy ...... But he also used 'and' reported among the attractions of "Downtown Hillsborough " and is' full of customers. The cappuccino is not 'much injured', but I pretend it's good. The waitress with piercing the nose and mouth, took a long time 'to prepare and at the end and I' seemed rather stressed. I do not want to disappoint her. Prepare an espresso or cappuccino in these parts does not seem an easy task! But 'the place fascinates me and I find the atmosphere just to write two lines in my notebook. 
Hillsborough, NC promotes itself as a historic town, enhancing (too) its old colonial buildings. From my point of view of European history streetwise, "the real attraction and 'the Farmers Market this morning where I went Sandra which sells its tasty cheese. Like a lot judging by the number of people who stop, taste, hear his descriptions interested gentle and accurate and then buy. He has a smile for everyone, Sandra, and I think this is, together with the quality 'of the product, the best self-promotion. In Farmers Market are fresh bread, fruit and vegetables, cakes, jams, coffee ', drinks, etc, and then objects of various kinds. All directly from producer to consumer. A delicate rediscovery of genuineness 'of farmers and craft of commercial products in the ocean mass and' America. Above all, America's food. It 's a bit as if we salentini riscoprissimo the true country fairs 20 years ago (to which we gave up to make room for those plastic current). A meta 'morning, when a guy started playing the acoustic guitar under a white gazebo, I go away for a while' having heard that a couple of blocks away there is' another Farmers Market, born of a split for an agreement between the non-sellers on "mode 'management " against managerial self . It 's the history of humanity' that is repeated: " we manage on your own or let us plan your life from someone else?". I made some photos, mumbled something to a mustached guy who wanted to sell eggs, " Hey man! You Seems to need my eggs! ," he says. "Um , no, no, thanks .... and ... well ... Why Should I eat your eggs ...? ," I reply. 5000 inhabitants, 2 Farmers Markets ........ Finally, hot, I go by Cup-a-Joe .
Si and 'late. I have to stop writing. I pretend to finish my cappuccino. The fly swatter and 'still in place. The waitress with piercing seems more 'relaxed. I get up and go out. The heat is stifling. The blond little girls have quit the role of women selling drinks and ice are relaxing rubbing on mom and dad 'in the shade of a large tree. Better that way '. The children were not created to work. Not even in jest. I smile to myself for this thought and go back to Sandra. It 's noon, and' time to remove the banquet cheese and return to Durham for lunch. All they greet and meet at the next market. They seem sincere. I enjoy being here.
Thanks Sandra, for this morning so 'beautiful! I feel very good today!
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