Come. Walk into the cavernous belly of Lahore. It is time to surrender to your surroundings. To breathe in the sea. Watch the marvel that is a hundred synchronized hands ordering, haggling, joking, and finally, delivering on their purpose. Rather than the void of slaughterhouses, this place is intricately full of life, teeming at the corners with more stalls, pride, and desire. This mosaic is the Machi Mandi Lahore. Cold and bloody it is, but also warm and slightly surreal. You mustn’t trouble your nose with the smells nor turn it up in disdain, because then you will be transported into the real. This place is a bit overwhelming for the senses at first. Because, you see, things are a bit more haphazard here, and operate with a logic of their own. So, beware of applying logic, and embrace the physiognomy of this overwhelming bazaar. However, if you do not judge, and give into the wild absurdity of man cleaving living things with great respect, admiration, and devotion, then you can truly find your way through this maze of commerce and wet, slippery lyricism. Come. Dinner is freshly served.