hell ~ london thru my own lens

i hate the tube. i always break into a cold sweat. i count seconds and yards in piston-tube-like dank darkness with only inches separating the metal housing of the speeding train and the concreted piping, exhaling only when i see the lights of the next station. bolt points into the light and fresh air.

call it an underground, the subway, a metro, or mass rapid transport systems, i measure a city’s progress by its ability to transport its masses quickly, quietly, efficiently and of course, safely.

singapore, tokyo, frankfurt all mitigate my urban commuter’s underground phobia by well-lit tunnels with emergency signage and clear escape routes. i am comforted by walking tracks all along these impermeable arteries. they assuage my insanity and diminish my exaggerated fears.

but what of those great cities in an advanced state of subterranean decay: new york, london ~ do i use a taxi or travel by bus?

drawn by the salacious innocence of roxy hart and her susceptibility, i am lured by temptacious promises of discovery. i stay underground and delay my search for a way out.

photographs: inside a tube station, london, summer 2005