Places and thresholds concerns the spaces a life moves through, and especially the charged lines between them—the doorway, the gate, the boundary crossed with an old and half-forgotten care. A bride carried over a threshold; a boarding gate before dawn; a motorway services at three in the morning; the concrete back-stairwell where a building stops performing; the path the feet wore across the grass in defiance of the one that was drawn.

A place is not a neutral container. It shapes what happens inside it, and a threshold—the moment of crossing—has always been felt as dangerous, or sacred, or both. These essays attend to the way we are made and unmade by where we are, and to the honesty of the spaces we don’t design: the worn path, the undressed stairwell, the non-place that shows you plainly who you are when no one is performing for anyone.