The tailspin of routinely traveling through heat, smog, and the crush on the street for hours on end is to be a part of the terrible pilgrimage that is Metro Manila.
Metropolitan Minotaur is a snorkeling in the Paris underground, in the crowded or desert subway, day or night, always at night though because the day never exists there. Both Theseus and Odysseus, I feel like a lonely hero in the modern city, armed with my little silver compact camera.
Born as an exploration of the different sight of the camera, quickly became the diary of a monotonous trip. Round trips overlapping like the faces met day after day, always the same, acquaintances lasted as fractions of a second, spread around the route, nuanced by the fatigue; but also beauty, light, rain, smiles, kindness, courtesy, tears.
G. attends an Institute for people with visual and psycho-physical pathology. The mental delay has always defined his life and conditioning it for good or for worse.
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