Every morning, they arrive early—unseen, unnamed, and unsupported. Dangling from the twelfth floor by ropes and makeshift harnesses, these painters risk their lives to make apartment buildings gleam. There are no helmets, no insurance, no emergency plans—only faith in frayed ropes and daily wages.
This photo essay documents a harsh reality often ignored: the fragile, suspended lives of migrant labourers who paint our homes while their own futures remain perilously uncertain.
Captured from the safety of my window, these images confront the quiet injustice in our built environments—the gloss of comfort rests on the backs of those who have none. It’s a portrait of inequality, of invisible hands that hold up our visible lives. The workers remain voiceless, yet their courage hangs in plain sight.
