A slender, supple magician behind the shaky wooden counter, the venerable spice master spoke in soft swishes of silken sound, silvery smooth like his slick hair separated at the side, but with eyes smouldering behind thick glasses. He would stare at us intently for a second, smile and saunter across to cast his spells, gently conversing with my mother about her planned purchases.
Tiptoeing, I would glimpse his white shirt tucked into far too big, belted trousers, and gaze enraptured at the enamelled, brightly flowered bowls of bounty,
