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  • The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    4638
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet
    09/08/2014     4638
    09/08/2014
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet

     

  • The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    4636
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet
    09/08/2014     4636
    09/08/2014
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet

     

  • The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    4635
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet
    09/08/2014     4635
    09/08/2014
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet

     

  • The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    4634
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet
    09/08/2014     4634
    09/08/2014
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet

     

  • The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    4637
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet
    07/08/2014     4637
    07/08/2014
    The Forgotten Ones of the Paris Ring Road
    France, Paris - 2014 -2015 - Between the Porte du Pré-Saint-Gervais and the Porte des Lilas, David
    David (40) manages to get by. He has a special welfare allowance and health cover. Every morning he goes to a local NGO to collect surplus articles from stores. He has a wheelbarrow and a trolley. Then he makes things using whatever he has retrieved.
    “Everything I make is psychology.”
    That’s what he calls his camp site: “Psychology.” Then, one wet summer’s day, when I was up above him, he suddenly screamed out:
    “You’ve got your photos! Get out!”
    I could see the rage in his eyes, and the danger. I hadn’t seen it coming. I slowly moved backwards, step by step, and when I got to the corner, I ran. I went into a café and burst into tears. There was fear, and the loneliness of the situation, of doing this story, the fear that the work I was doing with him was not being understood, the fear of not having realized what was happening. That was “psychology.”
    © Diane Grimonet