We are in northern India. The Pakistani border overlooking the Arabian Sea.

Entering these factories is not easy, through some people well integrated into the social context, friends of friends who get us a permit to visit these huge sheds with frightening heat. We are embraced by fields of still smoking steel, deafening noises and an anthill of people, all blackened by the soot of the large volcanic-looking oven. The trucks that incessantly unload large scrap and load the renewed metal that came out of the ashes like a black phoenix.

At the beginning photographing and moving here is really difficult, the fear of getting hurt or being a danger for these tireless workers is constant. After a while you get used to it and you can guess where to put your feet, when to lower your head quickly, when not to breathe and when to protect your eyes. These photos tell of the world of steel foundries and the working life of men who try to survive with the recycling of steel.

Life here for them takes place in a circular way, in the morning the workers get up early, there are those who rotate prepare meals for others. Who is at the furnace, who at the coal depot. Shifts begin and men are busy demolishing old shipwrecks from all over the world, the metal is cut, processed, melted and transformed again. Only the metal here changes life, unfortunately it does not happen to these men, they are always here, every day as long as the body holds, until evening, until the siren sounds the arrival of sunset. A human chain made of toil, sweat and hard work. Many curious eyes and friendly but bitter smiles.