A Single Sentence

Clang, Clang, Clang, Clang, came the thumps from the shoemaker’s place syncopating harmoniously at times with the taps of the hammer on the roof of the house adjacent to the woodshop where the electric sawing machine drowned all noise temporarily for a few seconds at a time only to subside and give way to the shrieks of the fruit vendor wheeling his squeaky carriage down the cobblestone pathway passing the antique Dabbous shop where Um Kulthum’s scratchy record hollered from the ancient copper trumpet of the record player to which hookah smokers slammed the backgammon stones down the wooden tables before I slammed the window shut.

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