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Pushed along in the crowd goes

The tourist in some awe

She can't believe the sight and sound

Of markets here outdoors

In the evening they're walking

The crowd drags them along

The push and pull the energy

Of the locals in the throng

The smells of spicy cooking

The stinging in her nose

It brings a little moisture

Her eyes she has to close

The lights above the stalls appear

To be put up every day

She wonders what the place looks like

When the sun shines its accusing gaze