Random and off the side of highways, they can unexpectedly appear. While walking under the dappled shade that fought through the thick canopy of trees, I caught small glimpses into the lives of strangers through what they left behind. I have yet to find a flea market that doesn't eventually lull me into a quiet, pleasant trance. More and more I am interested in the placement and arrangement of the items for sale. I find small collages and assemblages in the piles and displays under the tents. The familiar sights and sounds of Ranchero music, candies made from leche quemado and tamarindo and the smell of work to pull my thoughts out of a past I never experienced and into the present.