In Transition examines the overlooked architecture of waiting, those suspended moments that form a significant portion of our waking hours yet remain largely unacknowledged. Studies suggest an average person in the UK spends about 47 days queuing over the course of their lifetime, which is approximately 51 minutes of waiting in a line each week; two years of our lives waiting for appointments, and countless hours in anticipation of responses, arrivals, and departures. This unaccounted time exists in direct opposition to our productivity-obsessed culture.

These photographs document the physical language of pause: a head resting on a bus seat, lonely state of an untouched breakfast, or remnants of a finished meal, a disheartened figure reclined in grass beneath mountain skies. The series maps how bodies absorb time when progression halts, not as emptiness but as an unscripted presence demanding its own recognition.

These frames are separate, but their contexts overlap. They contain a stillness laced with impatience, a sense of determination tangled with uncertainty, and direction shadowed by doubt. Though no literal waiting rooms appear, each image embodies these transitional zones, both here, and there, and neither, that quietly glues our daily experiences together.

Time doesn't pass evenly. The psychological truth that painful moments stretch while joyful ones compress reveals itself in postures and gestures: the slight slouch of shoulders, the absent gaze through windows, the contemplative arrangement of hands. How long is now? It depends entirely on what we're waiting for, and whether we're conscious of the waiting itself.

In these images, waiting becomes an act of vicarious observation, lending attention to others similarly suspended. We drift through each other's pauses, rarely acknowledging our shared condition. The people captured aren't characters, but witnesses to the ordinary tension of maybe, of almost, but not there yet.

And perhaps that's the revelation: waiting isn't merely a dead space between significant moments, rather, it's where experience reveals itself; where time and place clarify. Where memory slows enough to take shape. Without these intervals, nothing would hold form or become filled with spirit. What happens next will change everything. But first: this. This frame.

This state of transition.