Where I Am Not
The life of the city can never be felt at once, as a whole, but only through a series of fragmented experiences. This project begun as a quiet interest in looking at its anonymous inhabitants, and the ways in which they conquer the geography of the everyday. I was drawn to places of shared privacy, where one feels at home for a short while, just to abandon this temporary dwelling in the next instant. These are seemingly places of temporality, without a greater purpose but to cut the physical distance and deliver a passenger to a desired destination. Time spent on these short trips is essentially phantasmic, like a caesura in the calendar, an unmarked passage in the diary, space of dwelling of the mind. Behind the window, arrivals and departures etched on their faces like postcards.
There are travellers who no longer even know they are travelling. (Gaston Rageot)
We went, we returned, we went we returned. We went and returned.
For as long have the trains existed we know we were traveling in other thean those in which we sit.