A moment of transition — when the familiar flow of life is suspended, and time, once continuous, plunges into uncertainty. The objects of a simple, ordinary still life, carefully wrapped in paper, seem to be preparing for a move — yet they continue to serve their purpose. They become signs of waiting, of internal pause, of a suspended, in-between state. As if taste, color, and smell have vanished. As if everything is caught in a liminal space, where objects have lost their status and become motionless and empty.
It is a threshold condition that cannot be exited — one cannot return, nor step forward with curiosity. All that remains is to inhabit this uncertainty.