At the Edge of Sound [curated photo essay*2025]
Waiting is not a pause; it is an operational system.
Trains keep moving, ferries idle, markets open, and beds empty. Somewhere between speed and stand‑still, we are asked to prove we deserve arrival: show a passport, a wage slip, a pulse, a plan. Breath becomes paperwork; stomachs become clocks.
These photographs follow the small negotiations that fill this in‑between time - hands knotted, simit looping into circles, pixels stuttering half‑news. The tension is quieter, more ordinary, and therefore harder to escape.
Look long enough and you may hear a shared rhythm behind the images: bodies and places ticking together, waiting for permission to finish their sentences.
Welcome to the queue.
Minutes grow teeth; waiting learns a price.
A coin disappears, the latch clicks, and the metal drum claims my motion.
And the promised freedom says: pay, spin, and wait.
A coin disappears, the latch clicks, and the metal drum claims my motion.
And the promised freedom says: pay, spin, and wait.