Photographing people in their work environment resembles an intrusion in privat space. The instruments are laid out, the cat is watching, the hissing from a motor and the fire burning, here is hardly place for a bystander. The Heat from the sun and half a working day has the dark room burning. Colours are beeing created from the depth of a reverse circular pyramid bowl. The wool later strung up on a coat rack to be swung in again.
I have walked deep into the bazar. The tourists are gone, it’s wuzzing with activity but only the occasional scream prices wares to be processed and resold at the front. Here is the heart of the bazars own production.
In an attempt for fresh air i leave the labyrinth of hallways toward the back exit. A friendly bookstore owner allows me to take his photo. Outside is for breaks. Inside is for work. Throughout the alley workshops burn, hammer, saw. Someone asks me for money. The stark reality behind the bazar is a slight mix of poverty, opportunity and people easing with calm towards the unknown.