12 pm Sunday, Camberwell Market

Flea markets (known as second hand markets here in Melbourne) were a passion of mine when I first arrived in Melbourne. A piece from a Susan Sontag novel rekindled that interest and inspired me to visit Camberwell market on Sunday to take some photos. I'm posting them here with exceprts from the Sontag piece that inspired me:

It is the entrance to a flea market. No charge. Admittance free. Sloppy crowds. Vulpine parking. Why enter? What do you expect to see? I’m seeing. I’m checking on what’s in the world. What’s left. What’s discarded. What’s no longer cherished. What had to be sacrificed. What someone thought might interest someone else.

But it’s rubbish. If there, here, it’s already been sifted through. But there may be something valuable, there. Not valuable, exactly. But something I would want. Want to rescue. Something that speaks to me. To my longings. Speaks to, speaks of. Ah…

Why enter? Have you that much spare time? You’ll look. You’ll stray. You’ll lose track of time. You think you have enough time. It always takes more time than you think. Then you’ll be late. You’ll be annoyed with yourself. You’ll want to stay. You’ll be tempted. You’ll be repelled. The things are grimy. Some are broken. Badly patched or not all.

… Some I will caress with my eye. Some I must pick up, fondle. While being watched, expertly, by their seller. I am not a thief. Most likely, I am not a buyer.

…A game of recognitions. To know what, and how much it was, how much it ought to be, how much it will be. But perhaps not to bid, haggle, not to aquire. Just to look. Just to wander. I’m feeling lighthearted. I don’t have anything in mind.

From Susan Sontag, ‘Prologue’, The Volcano Lover – A Romance, Vintage 1993

I didn't come away with any goodies – this time – but took a few half decent photos. My son found a matchbox car he liked. The photos are also on Flickr here.