Marché aux puces

Lots of stuff in my house comes from this flea market. There was a time when I spent every Sunday combing through the dusty wares in this place. Behind this red brick building there used to be a series of tiny sheds that connected to each other like a big rabbit warren. But today I discovered that all those little sheds are gone and now there’s a parking lot for the school across the street. Good thing I don’t need any more junk.