TIME

It was a chance encounter in the middle of the island of Rhodes. Turning a corner, I found time seeming to move backwards, not through nostalgia, but through a corridor of shifting light and desaturated colour.

Textures of decay crowded the scene, all asking to be noticed at once, each competing gently for attention. Simplification became my intent. It was never going to be too little, but easily too much.

I recognised the traces of time immediately, but felt no need to define them. The moment asked only to be acknowledged and held, leaving its meaning open to be interpreted differently by each viewer, without instruction.