Fifth Journey Day 60: Table Without Centre

Date: July 7, 2025
Location: Cluj-Napoca, Romania

I spent most of the morning moving slowly — not tired, exactly, but quiet. The kind of quiet that comes from transition, from arriving somewhere that hasn't quite let me in yet. I walked to the flea market along the river without checking the time. There was no real entrance — just a narrowing of the pavement and the appearance of tables, crates, and folded blankets on the ground.

I first noticed the sound. Not the voices, but the textures: the sound of old metal spoons hitting a chipped bowl, the sound of cardboard boxes being moved, the soft sound of fabric being folded again. I didn't touch much, but I looked closely at the matchboxes with faded labels, the enamel mug with the repaired handle, and the clock face with the loose minute hand.

Some parts seemed like they were just for tourists, but most of it wasn't. There were gaps in the arrangement, as if some stories had been picked up just moments before I passed. One woman was selling nothing but zippers. The zippers were sorted by color into rows that looked almost like fish scales. I stood by her table for a long time. She didn't speak to me. I didn't take any photos.

I think what I will always remember is how things waited — not passively, but with a certain worn dignity. There was nothing that caught my attention. Everything was allowed to be overlooked.

I didn't take any notes. I didn't try to make the visit into anything more than it was. But on the walk back, I thought about how a line might change over time — not fade, but shift. It means that something is functional one time, and then it becomes a fragment. There's a calm rhythm in that, too.

It felt enough just to notice.