ILLUSTRATION: KATHRIN LANG
The liminal zone is a place of transition. It might be a front hall or an airport, a railway line or a doorway, somewhere we pass through or inhabit only briefly. It’s an in-between land, a waiting room that’s both pre-arrival and post-departure. And although – as any delayed traveller will know – we might spend a significant amount of time there, the liminal zone exists outside of our everyday lives. It is, you might say, a necessary evil, a place where a game of patience is played against a ticking clock that we hope will tell us our time here is almost done.