Two men are proceeding through an environment of concrete and steel.
Is there something to be found away from the public gaze, far from the perpetual din of everyday life?
One day, I learnt that a man takes a rope, uncoils it from the top of a bridge, down a stairwell and into a hole. He goes down and up it, down and up it.
Ever since I met him, I have been following him for a long time.
He moves silently through Paris’s dark underground passages.
Tunnels, galleries, sewers.
Drawn by a similar desire to archive and experience depth, we entered the capital’s guts, arteries and abandoned limbs. Exploring the layers of this machine, we discover its internal pulse.
I accompanied him in this Dantesque journey like a discreet Virgil, painting a portrait that reveals the bowels of this metropolis along the way.