Below Milan’s polished streets lies another city made of echoes, flickering lights, and strangers in motion. Between departures and arrivals, the subway becomes a space where time folds, and the self dissolves into movement. A fleeting threshold between what has been left behind and what has yet to arrive. Where the city shows its most authentic side, and so do we.
Read MoreWe are creatures of thresholds craving permanence, yet our only constant is change. We long to arrive, yet the act of arriving empties the arrival of its meaning. Once the thing we awaited becomes ours, the waiting itself dissolves, and with it, a certain aliveness. Hence, we look again toward the next horizon, the next job, the next version of ourselves. As the queue advances, we step forward.
Read MoreIn the liminal spaces between objectivity and subjectivity, art finds its pulse. This is where the invisible and the outcasts, like Henry Darger and Judith Scott, create, transforming isolation into invention. Darger’s hidden epic and Scott’s intricate sculptures speak louder than any words, bridging the gap between the worlds they inhabit and the one that ignores them.
Read MoreLiminal spaces belong neither to where we’ve been nor where we’re going. They exist in the threshold, between step and step, silence and word, dusk and dawn. Here, time blurs, certainty falters, and transformation begins. To dwell in liminality is to dwell in becoming.
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