He stops me as I walk past his stall.
"You have a practiced eye" he says. "A man of discriminating taste....
I like him. I stop and give his table a look over - nothing really, he's by far and away the most interesting attraction, older, handsome in a decrepit, faded academic sort of way, wan smile, missing tooth, slight English accent with the charm you imagine English people to possess but so very few of them do.
"A connoisseur..." he continues, then lifts an item off of his table and passes it to me "Take a look at this snow globe.".