The man and small boy park their cart and are waiting to be of service. Early in the evening, they sit on a step outside a long-abandoned barbershop. Huge posters with the dangling heads of Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, and Tarkan show the hairstyles once overpromised by those failed business owners.

The man and boy hold their limbs in identical postures: feet on the lower step, elbows on their knees, arms folded across, gazing left. The boy’s cartoon backpack rests nearby.

The cart has a glass case like a fish tank, filled with rice and chickpeas. They serve dinner on a side street that merges with the chaos of Taksim Square. The boy hurries foam plates to taxis.  Buses dwarf him. He weaves through slow rolling cars with skill, pulling his mouth to one side, concentrating, selling sustenance for the oncoming traffic jam.

After a busy evening, only a few…