R.M.

After working in the metro for five years, I began photographing only in my second year there. In my memory the metro is forever cold, quiet, and almost empty. It stands on people who do not spare themselves and rarely look for a better life. My office was in the tunnel — at a depth deeper than where people are buried. This is a diary of underground days that coincided with a turbulent personal and historical period of my country. A document of flânerie through its labyrinths, a small proof that these days existed.