Sure, I’ve done it. The market’s a chaotic frame of light and color. I focus on the angle that catches the sun on a banana peel or the way a vendor’s laugh echoes between stalls. Those quick exchanges are the dialogue, the spontaneous smiles the unscripted beats. Swap notes? I’ll bring the grainy shots of a worker’s hands, you bring the humor in the unexpected comments. We’ll see who finds the story in the smallest ripples.

Coffee’s fine, but I’ll bring the camera, not the chit‑chat. I’m eyeing the back alley where the vendors refill the stalls – the way the morning light slants through the high windows, turning the trays of tomatoes into a red wash. And the small human moments – a kid pretending a bag of carrots is a spaceship, or a vendor laughing as she tosses a seedling into a shopper’s hand. That’s the odd angle that turns a routine stroll into a narrative. Let’s catch it before the rush hits.

Sounds like a plan. Bring the tripod, I’ll bring the lens and a notebook full of angles I think you’ll miss. Let’s catch the red glow before the crowds spill over and the tomatoes start to look like traffic lights. I'll be ready for that “tomato traffic jam” comment—just don't let the vendor think I'm messing with his stall. See you there.