A market’s closing hour reveals the labor underneath its cheerful morning display.

The end of the day tells the truth about the beginning of it. What looked abundant at nine is revealed at five as crates, aching backs, unsold stock, and the long business of packing it all away again to be repeated tomorrow. Displays are made to be enjoyed rather than understood, and the effort is deliberately kept out of the pleasant part.

Stay somewhere until it closes occasionally: a market, a kitchen, a venue. Seeing the pack-down changes how you value the setup, and it usually makes you more generous towards whoever will be doing it again in the morning.