Ali’s father stops smiling. ‘I haven’t got any money for cameras,’ he says slowly.
Every afternoon, Ali walks in the old city of Istanbul. He looks at the houses near the water. Some houses are very old. He watches the men on the bridge. They are catching fish. He watches the boats. He watches, and he sees photos in his head.
‘How can I get a camera?’ he thinks. Suddenly, he has the answer. ‘I’m going to work in the market!’
There is an old market near Ali’s school. There are small shops in the market. People buy and sell food there.
Ali goes there every afternoon after school. He works with a smile. He carries bags for people. People like him and they give him money. He puts it in his pocket.
‘One day I’m going to have a lot of money,’ Ali says to his mother. ‘Then I can buy a camera. And then I’m going to take a photo of you in the kitchen.’
‘No, not in the kitchen! On the balcony, with your father,’ his mother says.
‘No, not on the balcony — in my shop,’ his father says.
One afternoon, Ali is carrying a heavy bag for an old man.
‘There’s a man behind us,’ the old man says. ‘Do you know him?’