After Hurricane Sandy hit New York, I hit the streets of lower Manhattan to witness the rare sight of a city in complete darkness. It was exciting yet terrifying to hear the collective murmurs of "What if someone is just waiting in the darkness with a weapon, poised to mug you, harm you, molest you, or worse?" Everyone walked with a stiff neck, anxious and weary of the shadows that might be lurking in alleyways and stairwells. Within the darkness, some New Yorkers were faced with a difficult dilemma.
While cooped up in their homes without power, heat or clean water for days, a knock would sometimes come to offer help. For the most part, the call of assistance was real, but on occasion, it was nothing other than the dark recesses of humanity crawling out of its own murky depths and in to the lives of the unsuspecting, the unarmed, the vulnerable.
I sought to explore how such an event would affect foreigners that are out of their element, amplifying the terror and impact of a blackout.