I was WEAVING MY WAY through a huge handmade-basket shop.  The tiny doorways leading to another woven expanse of willow, blushing colors, and earthy smells seemed endless and ever-ascending.  I just kept wandering up and up and up until I LITERALLY STUMBLED onto the rooftop where the baskets are actually made.
The basket-makers were as curious about me as I was about them and their craft.  THEY ALL BURST INTO LAUGHTER as soon as they saw me (more on this phenomenon in another post), but I wasn't phased.  I gestured to ask if it was ok to walk around, and the guy I'm posing with gestured that he wanted a picture. FAIR ENOUGH. As much as I've traveled and wanted to take photos of people and places that I found intriguing or interesting, I chose not to judge or take offense.  And I got to indulge a little pleasure of my own - seeing the PROCESS, in addition to the finished product.  
What I took away from this experience was the RANDOM LITTLE REMINDER that as WOVEN TOGETHER as we are as the human species, we are nevertheless so intensely intrigued by the varied coats of color that paint our exteriors.  So very much the same, and yet so very different, just like these baskets.

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