These photographs don’t record the city’s surface; they seek how the city holds time. Railings, chairs, stairs, window frames, corners, and passing crowds are not mere details but thresholds that divide bodies, interrupt vision, and draw the present into residue. Through layered moments and fractured spaces, the city appears not fixed but accrued in traces. I’m drawn not to events but to what remains—pauses, overlaps, blurs, the tension between presence and absence—where memory becomes a condition of the city.