Time: 2nd of March
Place: On Church grounds
Status: Open for all
As well organised as the Bazaar was, as thoroughly thought-through as the specifics steps were -- from collecting donations from those farther away, to the tables set up inside and around Saint Mary’s, to the way the donations were so carefully itemised and sorted by type, price and interests of the future vendor, to the storing of those donations for the time being to the building of the Bazaar itself on the 6th, to the selling and to exactly where the earnings would go -- as well organised as it all was, as brilliantly as it all slid along from day to day, to Valentin, it still felt like chaos.
Perhaps that came from being caught inside, inside the moment, inside the church, inside the crowd of people coming in and out, where he had to slalom around the piles of bags on the ground, and being given no chance to step back and see it all from the outside. See the big picture. Instead of this great, honorable project, it just felt like a thousand little hand gestures and tiny steps, with no end in sight. Nevertheless, the thing that kept Valentin working diligently, day after day, was the thought of the big picture. That to someone somehow, this all made sense.
It was around six o’clock when he first got a moment to himself with no stands, deliveries, donators’ or organisers’ queries to mediate between, and so he slid out of Saint Mary’s through the backdoor. Fresh air.
The graveyard was surrounded by pine trees and so it was shady and quiet here. It hadn’t been particularly loud inside -- after all, this was a charity event, not a fun fair -- but after ten hours of even just quite mumble, his ears felt full. He tilted his head to the skies, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I hope you brought opera glasses to enjoy this in its full extent...”
