Introspection is no easy excercise, and it’s difficult finding words to describe the long path that brought life to this work. What direction had my thoughts taken? Where was my creativity driving me throughout the slow and uncertain process of this book taking shape, like a newborn stream, from the very resistances and warnings of both friends (though supportive, sometimes they were skeptical) and of enemies (chasing me day and night). I shall never forget lights and smells of each shot: the flash popping among metallic dim neons, the pungent odour of acids and tints, my friends’ sweaters adrenaline soaked for the excitement of capturing beauty…It wasn’t easy.

This book like a stream is shaped by the stones of unexpected obstacles, by u-turns, sudden rushes, feverish research, never ending nights of work. Diaphragm open, diaphragm closed…
I have done it for hundreds of times, bombarding trains, tunnels,
human bodies in motion, capturing… fading… incriminating my subject on the spot, and then immediately forgiving.
I have been searching for undisputable certainties among the darkest corners of our cities, and found that those corners are not dark at all: they are simply less illuminated. Certain shots are more special to me: they are a mirror of the flow of my life and, like milestones, give me a good chance to tidy up things and try to make sense of the last fifteen years which I have spent capturing images of people and trains.

One thing is sure: I believed in my work. Catching the action, I made it mine.
Mine forever, lucid eternal conscience adding colour to the darkness of my nights.
And now, holding this book in my hands, with my backpack full of images and stories.
I recognize that old instinct of mine that kept me afloat beyond the outsiders’ line.
People usually walk above tunnels and rarely venture into the cool breezy caverns that lie stretched underneath our homes. But there is an instinct, a need for resistance against the monochrome of the distant metropolis, a sometimes cruel, non accepting society. I wanted to be part of this resistance, as I have resisted previous attempts to dissuade me from the future I had chosen for myself. I have resisted with the two weapons I know: my camera, and my never ending drive to capture hidden, underground realities, places of possible unmeasurable intrest.
Places where your hopes and dreams find a name, and where colour emerges from the dark. Slowly turning these pages, I feel I might have found that colour.