It's dark in Murmansk. A railway security guard yawns, his breath visible in the frigid air, and waves through one of the workers arriving for the early morning shift. He barely glances at him.
Had the guard looked closer, he might have noticed that the worker's face was unfamiliar; that his fluorescent vest wasn't railway issue but bought in a hardware store — that his Valenki boots were brand new. And had he looked in his bag, he might have wondered why instead of ironworking tools there was nothing but a camera with a long lens.