The pretty patterns on the lanterns glimmered in the shop's dim light. Looking like old treasures gathered from across the attics of the city, more than two dozen of them hung perilously from a single, large, iron mobile. This was not a shop for small children to be running around in. And yet, the young boys working in the store looked hardly older than my high-school-aged brother. They were well-behaved, teasing each other lightly, but never getting too out of hand, as the store's owner (probably their father, or an uncle) kept a watchful eye on them. At the end of the day, one of the boys counted the money in the cash-box behind the counter while another swept the floors. Still a third wrapped up all the open goods, cleared them away from the counters and put them all on the shelves behind him. The uncle smiled slightly as he looked around at his hard-working boys. The panes of glass in the lanterns reflected their laborious movements until, at long last, the work was done, and the lights were shut off for the evening.
I have never been to Istanbul, let alone to this shop that I am describing. The descriptions are in no way meant to imply that this is what life in Istanbul is like- they are merely what sprung into my imagination based on this picture, which I found here.
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