Threshold

The ferry crossing from Italy to Corsica takes five hours. This summer, I made that journey twice - there and back. Traveling with family, camera in hand, I found myself wandering the decks alone - observing. People resting from long drives, taking in the sun, watching the islands pass. Nobody quite here, nobody quite there yet. The ferry is a threshold, and thresholds have their own light. I was drawn to the way the ship's architecture - its glass, its shadows, its portholes and corridors - turned people into silhouettes and reflections. Between worlds, we become outlines of ourselves.