On a visits to Paris I traveled the city by Metro, as one tends to do. The stations never seem to be more than a few blocks away and form a network that can, within minutes, pop you back up in a new neighborhood with cafes, or at the museum you’re intent on seeing, or near any one of numerous postcard famous sights. But between the market-lined streets and the tracks where the train arrives, there is an in-between. Each station has a netherworld of corridors, stairways, twists and turns, that one must follow. We trust the signs that tell us which of three tunnels will take us our desired route, either to the train, or back up to the open air. Some stations are really several nearby stations linked by immensely long connecting conduits. I would occasionally find myself in a passage where I couldn’t see what was ahead of me around the bend, nor behind. And at certain late hours, there would be nobody passing through either. I began photographing these spaces and moments, finding myself interested in these places that were built for mass human traffic, but with no human comfort. They were utilitarian, and yet still retained a Parisian elegance (the ubiquitous white tiles in brick pattern). I was fascinated by the endless rights and lefts, ups and downs one traverses in hopes that the destination is around the corner – always following the sign to exit - SORTIE.