Inside a Korean apartment elevator, seen from just behind a resident's shoulder: the stainless steel doors are halfway closed and the resident's finger is pressing the door-open button, while through the narrowing gap a neighbour in slippers runs down the corridor carrying a plastic grocery bag, one hand raised. The button panel has plain blank round buttons with no numbers and no symbols. Brushed steel walls, a mirror, flat fluorescent ceiling light. Ordinary everyday Korean people, faces small, photorealistic candid. No text, no letters, no logos, no numbers.