Picture this: A school in Kayseri, a vibrant city in the heart of Turkey. Not a big school, only 450 students. Girls only, aged between let’s say 13 and 17. And then picture me coming in with Allard, a Dutch photographer I sometimes work with. At first the girls are shy; when we try to get the ones I interview into a picture with a group of classmates around them, they run away giggling. But then there’s a classroom full of girls whose teacher doesn’t show up for about fifteen minutes. The class gets overexcited about us being there. As a result no more pictures are taken, Allard and I are slowly pushed into a corner of the room surrounded by girls with pens and paper, asking – I’m not joking – for our autographs. A journalist and a photographer from Holland, how much more interesting can it get, really! So we gave them what they wanted, on pieces of paper, on hands, on arms. They were especially interested in Allard, as they don’t see too many guys in the school. When the teacher arrived, the class immediately calmed down. Allard and I took the opportunity to get the hell out of there, the girls waving at us enthusiastically. Bye girls! Don’t forget us, and we will never forget you!