A guy is selling fruit on the sidewalk in front of the Consulate. Out of a cart pulled by a donkey.
Part of me thinks: “wow, fresh from the old countryside, this fruit must be clean and pure and tasty!”
Another part of me laughs in scorn at that part of me, and snorts: “that’s exactly what the guy wants you to think. He probably bought the fruit in the wholesale market, rents the donkey by the hour, and is charging you double for the illusion of countryside food.”
I don’t like that part of me very much, but I suspect that it’s right.