Simon Hoegsberg, a 32-year-old photographer from Denmark, thinks his 100 meter long (and 78cm wide) image might be.

We're All Gonna Die - 100 meters of existence is a montage featuring 178 people, all shot from the same spot over 20 days on Warschauer Bridge in Berlin.

His aim, he says, was to capture "the uniqueness of 'ordinary' people". And if you scroll along it on his website, you certainly come across some interesting characters.

He shot the portraits in the summer of 2007, and has spent the last 17 months making the montage. Looking at his website, it's typical of the kind of work he does – often involving some kind of formal framework for an inquisitive exploration of humanity or national identity, sometimes involving a journey or typology.

My favourite series are his Low-fat diaries - a 1700km journey across Europe armed with a camera, a notebook and just 14 Euros - and Copenhagen / Istanbul - a 3500km journey using free transport courtesy of the Danish capital's bicycle scheme in search of "the goodness in people".

I like the contrast in these two diary entries from the latter project:

Day1 I have cycled 90 kilometers. I’m sitting at a Shell gas station six kilometers from Vordingborg (a town not far from the Danish/German border). A couple of minutes ago a man carrying three empty Tuborg beer bottles went into the shop. He came out again carrying three new bottles. He’s drinking his bottle with a fat lady with no front teeth and a fat boy who could be their son. An equally fat guy holding a French hotdog in his left hand frowned at me when passing me in his car. In the rear window of his car a big hand made of fabric was giving the finger to people driving behind him. I didn’t ask myself to shake my head. My head shook automatically. They’re all Danes.

Day 30 Bulgaria is a wonderful country. The country where I’ve felt most welcome of the eight countries I have traveled through. I was a jerk this morning. I woke up in a town, but did not buy food or water for the trip through the mountains to Sofia. I imagined I’d come across a restaurant on the way. After cycling and wheeling the bike ten kilometers I was dehydrated and weakened from hunger. A boy and three adults were approaching me on their bikes. I held a hand in the air. They stopped. I asked them “Is there a restaurant in the mountains”? They said “No”. A young woman who was part of the group stopped the car she was driving. She exchanged a couple of words with the group, got out of the car, pushed the driver’s seat forward and crossed the road carrying a white plastic bag in her hand. She said, “These are some croissants for your trip”. The eldest man of the family asked me if I wanted some water. I exclaimed a long-drawn sound that meant yes. The woman asked me a question, and while I was answering it the man gave me two bottles of water. When the group had left, I ate the three vacuum-packed croissants one after the other. I drank one of the two bottles of water, smoked a cigarette and caught myself shaking my head in reaction to what had happened. The family itself didn’t seem to be proud of having helped me. For them it was only natural. Three croissants, big deal! For me it was a stroke of luck but no miracle. The Bulgarians are like that. That is what I’m trying to say.

Check out the rest of the diaries, and Simon's other projects, here.