Documentary

Get my dad to work as a train driver

Get my dad to work as a train driver
Russia
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Freight train.

Hi, dad! You recently called your mother and told her that you went to the “Bottom”. You know, dad, it always surprises me how similar we are. Your narrow eyes, your facial expressions, your gestures, your quick temper, your haste – I have it all. My mother jokingly says that we are relatives.

Yesterday, we went to the forest, so it was quiet with you. And in the car, as usual, Zemfira played. I almost know her songs. Remember, you often filmed your life, my childhood, fishing and the forest. And now I do it, can it be transmitted? I watch these movies, I feel some kind of pity that I’m growing up, and you and your mother are not. I want to stop. These shots are always cozy, just a little sad.

After the forest, you were called to work. As a child, I was worried about your work, thinking that the train might roll over and you might fall asleep. How does it feel to go from a warm house to a diesel locomotive when everyone goes to bed? And then manage the train all night, transmit information to the dispatcher, assistant, and then Vice versa only in the direction of the house? Once you were sent on a business trip to lake Baikal, for a whole month, you were a traveler. 

And this summer, I took you on the train. You were going fast, as always, took a thermos, food, a huge backpack and me. We were driving to the depot when we walked in. I felt like I was your daughter. You were very nervous, confused, and so was I, hiding it. After filling out the permits, passing the medical examination, we went to the station, you walked with the assistant, I behind. It was a beautiful sunset, remember? I think you’ve seen a lot of them, sunrises, sunsets. You share a lot with us.

We waited for the arrival of the locomotive, then you checked it for serviceability. In the locomotive, you showed all its important parts, it was interesting, a little scary. It was time for you to leave, I jumped out of the cab, and my mother met me. You saw us off with the locomotive’s searchlight.
You know, dad, I feel love with you, on a level of consciousness, even though we are so different, but we are so similar. I think you are, too. 

Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. View from the windshield of a locomotive
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Dad is waiting for an assistant with a pass from the instructor
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Locomotive trains
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Windows of our house
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Electrical panel in a locomotive
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Dad goes to work with an assistant
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Sunset on the railroad tracks
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Dad’s sleeping place
Bologoye, Russia-august 2019. Rails
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Anastasia Egorova

Anastasia Egorova (b. 1998) is a photographer from St. Petersburg. She is attracted to the stories of ordinary people , usually these people have a lot of honesty. It also works with personal themes. Education: 2018−2019 Fotografika Academy of Documentary and Art Photography; Participated in workshops Oksana Yushko and Arthur Bondar. Exhibitions: «Future», Fotografika, 2019; «One», Fotografika, 2019; «The second festival of modern art First factory of the avant - garde», Ivanovo, 2019.

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