Urban Nyctophobia

The image opens onto an underground corridor plunged into a greenish, sickly gloom. The raw light of neon fixtures fixed to the ceiling battles a thick darkness, casting pallid reflections on a tiled floor that seems to seep with moisture. The gaze is irresistibly drawn to the back: a dark staircase that sinks into the unknown, where light can no longer bite. The walls, covered with austere faience tiles, seem to close in on the viewer, creating a sensation of absolute confinement. What strikes most is the very material of the image. It is covered with a network of scratches, cracks, and corrosion stains, as if the film itself had been unearthed from a forgotten place. This “dirty” filter gives the impression that we are observing a traumatic memory or a reality in full decomposition. It is a quintessential liminal space: a passageway where no one wishes to linger, where silence must be as heavy as the ambient air.