Embers

After a late-night screening I wandered through Istanbul and met Dursun, a chestnut vendor whose small fire lights the street every night. We shared tea and stories while strangers passed by — a quiet moment of connection in a city that rarely pauses.

One night after leaving a cinema in Istanbul, I found myself walking through the streets of Taksim. People were standing outside discussing the film while I lingered for a moment, looking up at the night sky.

On my way to the metro, a small roasted chestnut cart caught my attention. In the darkness of the street, it appeared almost like a small island of light. I started taking a few photographs, and the vendor noticed me from a distance. He smiled and waved.

His name was Dursun. I bought some chestnuts and we began talking. What started as a brief exchange slowly turned into a long conversation over tea. He had come to Istanbul decades ago to work and had been standing in these same streets ever since. I had arrived in the city years earlier to study, and at that moment I was also navigating a turning point in my own life.

Between the heat of roasted chestnuts, the steam rising from tea, and the movement of people passing through the night, our stories briefly crossed.

These photographs reflect that encounter — a quiet moment of warmth in the middle of the city at night.