Weaving around plastic baskets, tables piled with kids clothes, and other seemingly random odds and ends. I don’t buy anything. Or very rarely. There’s something about walking around a souk. Even the incredibly quiet Muharraq souq, in Bahrain, on a Sunday afternoon.

There isn’t anything like it here in the US. And there are some days when I really miss it. The energy and sheer haphazard nature of the souk. No matter how many times I went, I every stall and alley looked different.

I miss this.