There's a kind of freedom in anonymity. In this work, I photograph people at the edge of the frame — backs turned, gazes cast toward the horizon — inviting you to project your own story onto theirs. The subject becomes a mirror.

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We're so accustomed to the face as the center of a photograph. The eyes, the expression, the identity. But when that's taken away, something else opens up. A figure waiting for a subway becomes every person who has ever waited for a subway. A silhouette in the rain belongs to anyone who has ever been in the rain.

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These photographs aren't about the people in them — not exactly. They're about the space between you and them. The wondering. The stillness of looking at someone who doesn't know they're being seen, and finding, somehow, a version of yourself looking back.