Once a month, someone's past gathers in a plaza. At Okazaki Park in Kyoto, the Heian Flea Market sets up on the second Saturday of every month, weather permitting, a market of old things. Old chests, chipped teacups, folded kimono, tools whose uses are no longer clear. Each once stood in someone's home, and now moves on to someone else's. There are hundreds of vendors, prices are negotiable, and you need no expertise; whether you like it is reason enough to choose it. Behind it all rises the great torii of Heian Shrine. Under Kyoto's blue sky, on blue tarps, time is laid out for sale. The selection differs each visit; the same market never comes twice. By afternoon the stalls close, and the plaza becomes a plaza again. Nothing remains, and that is exactly why you want to return.