I’ve lost track of how many Saturdays I’ve spent wandering flea markets across Arkansas. I’ll go in thinking I’ll just browse for a few minutes, then suddenly it’s two hours later and I’m carrying something random out to the car.
It happens every time. There’s just something about these places.
Rows of booths, a mix of old and new, and vendors who are always ready to swap stories or knock a few dollars off the price. Some markets feel a little chaotic in the best way…