When I was younger I thought the black market was a physical place in the middle of a desert canyon somewhere, and the reason it was called that was because all the stalls used black fabric. I thought that human bones and brains in jars were sold there. I thought you could buy smuggled artifacts and stolen artwork from painters long dead. I thought that you could buy elephant ivory and endangered bird eggs. I thought that you could buy rhinoceros meat and wild chinchilla coats. I thought you could buy pirated copies of movies and hard drives full of government secrets. I kind of wanted to go, but I knew it was a terrible thing to ask. I wouldn’t have bought anything, I would have just liked to look.
Loading...
