For me, every man is a story. Although I can not read the beginning nor the ending of it, I am extremely lucky to read at least one chapter of the story. Despite the fact these men and women are part of my daily routine I don’t know their names. Should I? I guess I get more than that. I see a driver opening the doors with the pinkie because of his greasy hands, the tidiness of a female driver’s dashboard, a sticker of the driver’s son superhero, food likings, vices, received gifts, music tastes, religious beliefs and so on. Personal objects and habits make you feel more like home. A two by three inches stuffed toy or a four by six inches photo bring the beloved ones back into the driver’s cabin. The man is modelling continuously his workplace to obtain the comfort and the warmth of home, to work easier and to banish the boredom and the loneliness of this job. These seemingly insignificant little things tell me the chapters that compose my story: Personal.
Constanta, Romania. 2010-2011