I am a commuter, and I ride the Metro to and from work everyday. The average commuter, myself included, has a structured and scheduled life. Yet those of us who utilize the Metro to get to work in the greater D.C. area depend on a system whose reliability and safety is constantly in doubt. This conflict between routine and uncertainty has created a distinct atmosphere on the trains. Cars are quiet, and no one makes eye contact despite being inches away from each other, or more often, awkwardly crammed body to body. Though distressed and vulnerable for the duration of their commute most riders appear to depart from the public reality and retreat inward into a sort of meditative state until arriving to their destination. These commuters stare intently at nothing, contemplative, but self-possessed.

During my travels I document only what is possible through the use of a covert camera, my cell phone. The resulting images are small, sometimes blurred, oversaturated, or pixilated due to both the camera and the environment. Yet the result of this process, and its eccentricities, are intimate impressions of my generation of subway dwellers, captured from the point of view of a fellow commuter.