"Finished" Narrative

The first gateway into the market was stained with the sweet smell of fortified wine.

The floor appeared to be flooded with the blood of meat - now suspended within tall, narrow vats of wine applying its acidity to the tender flesh. The cylinders appeared as artillery - mounted within a bulwark of beams.

This lean angle of entry also led to the deli counter - opposite the front facade. This was the main niche of Braunstein Meats.

As I entered the long compressed space, I was immediately drawn to the deli counter. It was a long wooden sctructure resembling the remains of the meat now being sold and consumed.

Its new translucent skin exposed the rib structure, bare and dry. This is where the doling out of portions of meat, vessels of wine, and the purveyance of “comfort” took place.

This was its fortee. Its seduction; Alcohol, Meat, and Sex. All things carnal.

The fleshy ceiling appeared to sway with the joyous ballad being sung over and over again in some distant division of the place. Like forteana falling from the sky, parcels of meat - as if suspended in mid-flight - hung above my head. Braunstein’s was, apparently, praised for their dried and cured meats. An array of hooks threst through the falling objects - held the slabs from reaching the ground but within one arm’s length.

The supply of meat and wine appeared to be under constant replenishment from the cellar of the place; its lower limit. This was serviced by a stair aligned directly with the meat counter.

I descended in curiosity before purchasing anything to eat or drink. At the bottom of the stair I found a door.

The aged space stunk of must. It was cool, but not cold, and very dark - like the liquid it was meant to store. The room was adorned with 6 crowns of deep red wine. The bulbous casks were suspended from the foot and sides of the room and each fed mysteriously by an arrangement of 6 tubes piercing the ceiling. As I left the room, I became aware of beating and thumping of the lively crowd overhead.

Beyond this room I discovered a cold space filled with large slabs of flesh and fat. Outside of this was a preparation room. A long deck, not dissimilar from the counter above wrapped the flanks of the room.

After ascending back to the top of the stair I entered into what seemed to be the belly of the place – lively and vulgar. This is where the tunding, heard below, was taking place. It was a simple and tempting room packed with a rich, heavy, wooden table which served as both dinner table and dance floor.

As if an extension of the market below, 4 rooms appeared with windows mirroring those that existed within each of them. Each chamber shut in one person – conveying that in which they excelled. The rooms were small – just enough to perform their duties. They were gateways to access the sensory organs.

I finally reached the tail of the building - a second cant – to find a broad open container of a space. Funnel like columns, turned over completely, were drawn down to floor – through which shafts of deep red wine were fed.

Adorned by Crowns

The supply of meat and wine appeared to be under constant replenishment from the cellar of the place; its lower limit. This was serviced by a stair aligned directly with the meat counter.

I descended in curiosity before purchasing anything to eat or drink. At the bottom of the stair I found a door.

The aged space stunk of must. It was cool, but not cold, and very dark - like the liquid it was meant to store. The room was adorned with 6 crowns of deep red wine. The bulbous casks were suspended from the foot and sides of the room and each fed mysteriously by an arrangement of 6 tubes piercing the ceiling. As I left the room, I became aware of beating and thumping of the lively crowd overhead.

From the Sky

The fleshy ceiling appeared to sway with the joyous ballad being sung over and over again in some distant division of the place. Like forteana falling from the sky, parcels of meat - as if suspended in mid-flight - hung above my head. Braunstein's was, apparently, praised for their dried and cured meats. An array of hooks threst through the falling objects - held the slabs from reaching the ground but within one arm's length.

Fortee

This lean angle of entry also led to the deli counter - opposite the front facade. This was the main niche of Braunstein Meats.

As I entered the long compressed space, I was immediately drawn to the deli counter. It was a long wooden sctructure resembling the remains of the meat now being sold and consumed.

Its new translucent skin exposed the rib structure, bare and dry. This is where the doling out of portions of meat, vessels of wine, and the purveyance of "comfort" took place.

This was its fortee. Its seduction; Alcohol, Meat, and Sex. All things carnal.

Fortified Wine

The first gateway into the market was stained with the sweet smell of fortified wine.

The floor appeared to be flooded with the blood of meat - now suspended within tall, narrow vats of wine applying its acidity to the tender flesh. The cylinders appeared as artillery - mounted within a bulwark of beams.