This body of work emerged from a year spent photographing doorways, windowsills, and the worn edges of thresholds in domestic interiors. I became fascinated by these in-between zones — neither inside nor outside, neither private nor public — and the quiet architecture that organises our daily passage through space. Each image was made at dusk or dawn, those hours when light itself seems to pause and reconsider. The resulting series treats the threshold not as a boundary but as a place of decision, hesitation, and arrival. Printed at near-life scale and installed at the height of an average door frame, the photographs invite the viewer into a kind of bodily recognition. You stand where someone once stood. The work also includes a series of cast plaster fragments taken from the very surfaces depicted — chipped paint, worn stone, softened wood — presented on low plinths throughout the gallery. Together, image and object propose that thresholds are not simply crossed but inhabited, however briefly. They hold us in suspension. They ask us to consider what we are leaving and what we are entering, and whether those distinctions hold at all once we begin to look closely.