Flea markets can inspire a lot of things. Thriftiness in fleas for example. They can inspire you to spend the good half of a Sunday afternoon peering at nic nacs and doo dads arranged in careful rows. To walk at a pace set by a retiree walking up hill, with your nose pressed firmly into the folds of the turkish leather jacket in front of you, clutching your purse so hard your knuckles hurt, as you navigate perilous alley ways full of junk. To smell the aroma of cigarette smoke mingling with B.O, out of date patchouli incense and cod empanadas. To listen to an old bum play singin’ in the rain on a row of wine glasses with his own spit. They can inspire you to buy a broken watch, an old match book and a tile for 5 euros. They can inspire you to waste an entire roll of film.