Istanbul woke up early, and so did I. With my camera in hand, I hit the streets, ready to capture whatever came my way. The Grand Bazaar was already buzzing. I snapped photos of shopkeepers setting up their stalls, their hands busy with spices and fabrics.
In the afternoon, I wandered into Balat, where colorful houses leaned close together. A cat rushed across the cobblestones, and I followed it, snapping shots of peeling paint and old doors. An elderly man sat on a step, smoking. He saw my camera and gave a small nod. I took the photo, feeling like I’d caught a quiet moment of his life.
By evening, I was at the Galata Bridge. Fishermen lined the edges, their rods dipping into the water. The sun was setting, painting the sky in oranges and pinks. I focused on a young boy holding a fishing rod too big for him, his face serious. Behind him, the Hagia Sophia stood tall, a reminder of the city’s history.
As I looked through my photos that night, I realized Istanbul wasn’t just a place—it was a feeling. Every shot told a story, small but real. My camera had helped me see the city in a new way, one moment at a time...
