It is still dark when I reach the market at 7AM and things are not going to improve as clouds rapidly pile up above Tbilisi. I always start my visit by the florists market as activity here is at its peak before 8AM. It is always very colorful and there seems to be an endless variety of flowers but today I am surprised by some gigantic flowers I haven’t seen before.

I cross Moscow Avenue and stop to make a few photos of streets vendors. The rising sun slides its rays under the cloud layer and produces warm colors. It will soon start to rain and vendors are trying to sell their stock of herbs and vegetables before they have to leave and find shelter.

A vendor (the one with the Chanel long skirt on the photo) throws a turnip at me as she is not happy to see me taking pictures but she hits another vendor and everybody laugh. People explain to her what I do here and everything comes back in order. The risky business of market reporter I guess. I continue down Mevele street to reach the lower part of the market with a mix of aligned vans and sheds. It starts to rain and people improvise waterproof layers. I find shelter under a beach umbrella and make some shoots of passing trolleys.

I wait for a while, hoping for the rain to stop but it does not. I move and spend some time with a group of Azeri vendors as they sell at sheltered stalls. The 2 lari rental cost seems to be a wise investment today. As most customers have fled the market they have time for portraits and pose to their heart’s content: alone, in pairs, three at a time, until they form a group of seven and I must tell them there is not enough light to make a portrait. But I do it anyway because a man never has the last word with a woman, certainly not if there are 7 of them. I include it here, even if it is bad, because it shows the type of requests I often deal with at the market.

I make a final tour of the area, trying to deliver last week shoots but it is not very successful as most people are gone as the rain continues. I decide to go find refuge with the shoe makers. I stop on the way at Irma’s shop because I have just noticed that a seam of my tripod’s bag is loosing and she is the best tailor of the market. She has also become a friend with time. Irma is quite a character and I have spent hours at her place. She deserves an entire post I am still working on. She rapidly fixes the bag and laughs when I asks how much I owe her.

Martin, Vova and Avik are three shoe makers who share a small space next to Irma’s place. Their workshop is filled with piles of shoes. Some artisans have work for weeks to come while others are desperately waiting for clients. Customers are not mistaken and prefer to wait longer for quality work. It took four months to have my belt redone by the best leather worker of the marker. He is so late in his orders that he was once assaulted by an exasperated client armed with a revolver. But anyway, I’m going off topic…

The shoe makers workshop is filled with rubber, glue and solvent odors to the point that no one would notice the smell of a cigarette lightened by one of the three artisans. The place is so small there is hardly enough space on the ground to install my tripod. Again the light is very low and I need to slower the shutter speed. I wonder how they can work all day long in such a dark environment. I explain I want to do photos as they work and that they don’t need to look at me. It is difficult at first but they finally go back to their work and I can start shooting.

I am sharing a Turkish coffee with Martin when his mother makes her appearance at the workshop. Rosa is 82 and still has sparkling eyes of mischief. Martin asks me if I can make her portrait and I am more than happy to do so.

The last five hours at the market have just flown without me noticing, as always. Samgori market is a place that plays with time on me: it bends it, squeezes it and sometimes makes me travel back.