Market traders

Although I was tired there was lots to see in Yangon and I wouldn't let myself stop walking. It's hard to choose just one of many pictures from the day: the women outside Sule pagoda selling small birds for people to buy and release; the grand British-era department store now falling into ruin and surrounded by netting (which I suspect will be rehabilitated as the country opens up); the young monks in deep red robes holding hands as they crossed the busy road?  Or an image from my time at the vast Shwedagon pagoda site: the rows of women at sunset sweeping even cleaner its huge, already-spotless stone platform; the people holding mobile phone conversations among others praying; the two-year-olds in fits of laughter running up three steps, along a plinth, jumping off and starting again and again and again; tired people sleeping on the wooden floors of unwalled halls... I slept there too until I was drawn out by the changing light of dusk as thousands of oil lamps were lit all around the main pagoda, electric light shone off the gold that covered everything  and the Buddha-statue halos made of garish 'phones unlocked here' lights glowed even more garishly.

Anyway, here are a teenage brother and sister (I assume) vegetable sellers in a mock fight behind the tomatoes while an older sister laughs at them.