liminal_spaces.

I’ve always been drawn to empty places. Hallways, stairwells, car parks at night, waiting rooms, abandoned-looking offices. Liminal spaces, basically. Places that feel like they’re meant to be passed through, not stayed in.

There’s something calming about them, even when they’re slightly unsettling. They make me feel nostalgic in a way I can’t fully explain. Not for a specific memory, more like for a time or a feeling that doesn’t have a clear source. Like being a kid somewhere late at night, half-awake, lights buzzing, no one around, and no responsibility yet.

It’s familiar without being personal.

For a while I was really into the Backrooms. Not in a monster-horror way, but the early idea of it. The endless yellow rooms, bad lighting, stained carpet, the feeling that something is off but nothing is happening. That quiet, low-level dread mixed with boredom and isolation.

It felt closer to real anxiety than most horror does. What stuck with me wasn’t the fear, but the atmosphere. The sense of being stuck between places. Not moving forward, not going back. Just existing in a space that wasn’t built for meaning.

It reflects endless systems, corridors, menus, queues, progress without destination.

I like that liminal spaces don’t demand anything from you. No performance, no productivity, no explanation. You’re just there. Time feels strange in those places. Slower, flatter. Almost paused.

I think part of why I’m drawn to them is because they reflect how I feel internally sometimes. Not lost exactly, just suspended. Between phases. Between motivations. Between versions of myself. There’s comfort in seeing that feeling externalized as a physical place.

A lot of my taste in media, games, and even website design comes back to that same feeling. Empty layouts, muted colours, silence, space to breathe. I don’t like things that try too hard to grab attention. I prefer things that let you sit with them.

This site is kind of the same. It’s not supposed to feel busy or alive. It’s more like a digital hallway, something you pass through, maybe linger in for a bit, then leave behind. No feed, no pressure, no urgency.

If it feels quiet, that’s intentional.